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I Was Hitler's Prisoner (1935) 

Lincoln, His Life in Photographs ( 1 94 1 ) 

The New World (1946) 

F.D.R., A Pictorial Biography (1950) 

The Presidency (1951) 

Lincoln, A Picture Story of His Life (1952) 

The Life of Abraham Lincoln (1954) 





Doubleday & Company, Inc., Garden City, New York 

All rights reserved no part of this book 
may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing 
from the publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote 
brief passages in connection with a review 
written for inclusion in magazine or newspaper. 

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 58-10732 

Copyright 1959 by Stefan Lorant 

All Rights Reserved 

Printed in the United States of America 

First Edition 

Designed by Stefan Lorant ;; 

For Louise 


Nowadays, if a man has a sharp pair of scissors, a pot of paste, and a wife 
willing to wade through endless volumes of old pictorial magazines, the obvious 
thing for him is to do a picture book. A theme is easily found, pictures are quickly 
collected, and placed on the layout sheets. A few short words serve to identify 
the subjects, and lo! the volume is finished 

This book was not made in such a way. It took seventeen years to complete 
it. I began it in the spring of 1942 and finished in the summer of 1959. Nothing 
in it was left to chance; every item has been thoroughly researched; the arrange- 
ments of the pictures followed a carefully thought out pattern. 

To map out the chronology of Theodore Roosevelt's life alone took a full year. 
Collecting pictures and cartoons to illustrate his activities took five years. 
Sketching out and designing the rough layout took another year. Editing, revis- 
ing the layout, and researching for additional material took two more years. 
Work on the first pictorial draft with the illustrations photostated in the size as 
they were to appear in the volume and pasted in position lasted a year. Another 
year and a half were spent with revisions and with the first draft of the cap- 
tions and text. 

After the emergence of the first outline, a fresh search was started for items 
which seemed important to clarify the story. For the next four years, library 
and private collections were combed, contemporary newspapers and magazines 
were read. I saw every issue of Harper's Weekly, every issue of Leslie's, every issue 
of Puck, Life, and Judge during Roosevelt's lifetime. Fifty thousand more items 
were added to the twenty thousand already collected; hundreds of cartoons 
were reproduced, thousands of photographs acquired. To write the final text 
and captions took another year and a half. 

Problems over problems had to be solved. I attempted to create a certain 
pictorial style using pictures as a writer uses words, or as a composer uses 
notes and this was no simple matter. At times, the pictures would not fit in 
the story line; at other times, the story line would not lend itself to illustrations. 
It was not only a difficult, but often a frustrating undertaking. Here is one 
example of the vexatious problems: how was I to convey the passing of time? 
Photographs, in general, do not reveal the time they were taken. A house is a 
house, a man is a man whatever year the image is fixed on photographic 
plates. To indicate the passing of time, I made use of two devices one was to 
print full-page photographs of Theodore Roosevelt at frequent intervals, start- 
ing out as a baby and following his growth through adolescence, college years, 
political career, and presidential terms. The changes in his figure, the maturing 
of his face, show the passing of the years. Another device was to place the 
portraits of public figures next to that of his both pictures taken in the same 
year. Thus, on one page, young Theodore is juxtaposed with Abraham Lincoln; 
on another page, he is shown as a young assemblyman next to a baby born in 
the same time Franklin Delano Roosevelt. 

T have attempted to stress the similarities in human existence the illustra- 
tion of the dead Civil War soldiers in 1863 is almost identical with the illustra- 
tion of the dead soldiers on the battlefield of France in 1918. There was much 
that I could present, but there was still more that I was unable to include. A 
volume of this kind can never be comprehensive; in it one can only give a feel- 
ing, an impression of the times. 

In my work, I had a staff of competent helpers, and I was assisted in the most 
generous way by public institutions and universities. In the research for picto- 
rial material, Fayette Smith-Scheuch, Liljan Espenak, and Eileen Hughes were 
unsurpassed. They found pictures which I could never have discovered without 
their diligent work. Mrs. Hughes hunted down and photostated for me thou- 
sands of pages from old newspapers. In the text research and the mapping out 
of the chapters I was helped by Roger Linscott; his expert knowledge of 
the Roosevelt era saved me from many pitfalls. 

Hermann Hagedorn, the moving spirit behind the Roosevelt Memorial As- 
sociation, answered my many questions with patience; he watched the work's 
progress during the seventeen years, always encouraging, always a rock of 
strength. My gratitude to him is everlasting. The late Nora E. Cordingley, for 
two decades librarian of the Roosevelt Memorial Association sent me materials 
whenever I have asked for it. How I wish she might have seen the results! 

Robert H. Haynes, curator of the Theodore Roosevelt Collection at the 
Harvard College Library, and his assistant, Audrey Hosford, answered my 
queries with unfailing courtesy. 

During the seventeen years I have often called on Carl E. Stange of the Li- 
brary of Congress, Josephine Cobb of the National Archives, and Grace Meyer 
of the Museum of the City of New York for pictures and information; my 
special thanks to them. 

I am deeply indebted to the family of Theodore Roosevelt for their interest 
and generous help. I saw Mrs. Roosevelt before she died, and she talked frankly 
about her life and answered my many questions. She also gave me a number 
of family snapshots, and the Kaiser Wilhelm pictures which are reproduced in 
the book for the first time. Mrs. Alice Longworth, Roosevelt's eldest daughter, 
was most kind and helpful whenever I turned to her, as was Mrs. Ethel Derby, 
the youngest of the President's daughters. 

The tremendous job of preparing the pages for the printer was done by 
Ruth M. Shair of Doubleday. She attended to the many details of the work 
with superb intelligence; without her this book could never have been done. 

Seth M. Agnew, the head of my publisher's production department, and 
Virginia Muller supervised the cumbersome details of production. George 
Carnegie of Consolidated Lithographing Corporation kept a sharp eye on the 
printing. My grateful acknowledgment goes to them. 

Mrs. Irene F. Weston, my secretary, typed the manuscript, counted every 
letter in the captions, and was with the book from the beginning to the end. 
Her council, advice, and criticism, though not always followed, was always wise. 

Lenox, Massachusetts 

August 17, 1959 




Part 1. YOUTH 









































I have attempted to stress the similarities in human existence the illustra- 
tion of the dead Civil War soldiers in 1863 is almost identical with the illustra- 
tion of the dead soldiers on the battlefield of France in 1918. There was much 
that I could present, but there was still more that I was unable to include. A 
volume of this kind can never be comprehensive; in it one can only give a feel- 
ing, an impression of the times. 

In my work, I had a staff of competent helpers, and I was assisted in the most 
generous way by public institutions and universities. In the research for picto- 
rial material, Fayette Smith-Scheuch, Liljan Espenak, and Eileen Hughes were 
unsurpassed. They found pictures which I could never have discovered without 
their diligent work. Mrs. Hughes hunted down and photostated for me thou- 
sands of pages from old newspapers. In the text research and the mapping out 
of the chapters I was helped by Roger Linscott; his expert knowledge of 
the Roosevelt era saved me from many pitfalls. 

Hermann Hagedorn, the moving spirit behind the Roosevelt Memorial As- 
sociation, answered my many questions with patience; he watched the work's 
progress during the seventeen years, always encouraging, always a rock of 
strength. My gratitude to him is everlasting. The late Nora E. Cordingley, for 
two decades librarian of the Roosevelt Memorial Association sent me materials 
whenever I have asked for it. How I wish she might have seen the results! 

Robert H. Haynes, curator of the Theodore Roosevelt Collection at the 
Harvard College Library, and his assistant, Audrey Hosford, answered my 
queries with unfailing courtesy. 

During the seventeen years I have often called on Carl E. Stange of the Li- 
brary of Congress, Josephine Cobb of the National Archives, and Grace Meyer 
of the Museum of the City of New York for pictures and information; my 
special thanks to them. 

I am deeply indebted to the family of Theodore Roosevelt for their interest 
and generous help. I saw Mrs. Roosevelt before she died, and she talked frankly 
about her life and answered my many questions. She also gave me a number 
of family snapshots, and the Kaiser Wilhelm pictures whieh are reproduced in 
the book for the first time. Mrs. Alice Longworth, Roosevelt's eldest daughter, 
was most kind and helpful whenever I turned to her, as was Mrs. Ethel Derby, 
the youngest of the President's daughters. 

The tremendous job of preparing the pages for the printer was done by 
Ruth M. Shair of Doubleday. She attended to the many details of the work 
with superb intelligence; without her this book could never have been done. 

Seth M. Agnew, the head of my publisher's production department, and 
Virginia Muller supervised the cumbersome details of production. George 
Carnegie of Consolidated Lithographing Corporation kept a sharp eye on the 
printing. My grateful acknowledgment goes to them. 

Mrs. Irene F. Weston, my secretary, typed the manuscript, counted every 
letter in the captions, and was with the book from the beginning to the end. 
Her council, advice, and criticism, though not always followed, was always wise. 

Lenox, Massachusetts 

August 17, 1959 




Part 1. YOUTH 





































































All illustrations in the book are of contemporary origin; 
they were made at the time of the events, or shortly there- 
after. This applies to cartoons as well. The source of draw- 
ings and cartoons from magazines like Harper's Weekly, Leslie's 
Illustrated, Puck, Life, Judge are usually noted in the captions. 
Photographs and illustrations not otherwise credited are 
from the author's collection. 

The Theodore Roosevelt Memorial Associajion and the 
Theodore Roosevelt Collection in the Harvard College Li- 
brary supplied me with pictures of the Roosevelt family, 
photographs, cartoons and letters of Roosevelt. T.R.'s child- 
hood diaries and drawings, his picture letters, sporting 
calendar and war diaries are reproduced by courtesy of the 

Mrs. Theodore Roosevelt gave me her portrait as a seven- 
year-old girl, also snapshots which she had taken and pic- 
tures from her scrapbook on the 1896 presidential campaign. 
The Library of Congress supplied me with the many por- 
traits of politicians and writers of the period, also photo- 
graphs of the Spanish- American War. The National Archives 
was the source of the Round Robin telegram, also of photo- 
graphs from World War I and pictures of Wilson's trip to 

The drawings of early New York are from the contem- 
porary volumes of Valentine's Manual. 

The Museum of the City of New York supplied me with 
pictures of actresses, social figures at the Vanderbilt ball, 
photographs by Byron of the Mark Twain banquet, and the 
skyline photograph of New York in 1919. Brown Brothers 
have given me some of the pictures depicting America in 
1905, the Russo-Japanese peace negotiations, Wall Street in 
1907, and some of the photographs of Roosevelt in Europe 
and his homecoming; also the photograph of the Newett 
libel suit and T.R.'s portrait with Taft. Underwood and 
Underwood supplied the photographs of Roosevelt's speak- 
ing tour in 1902 and 1903 and his photograph on the 

Eric Schaal is responsible for the picture of Roosevelt's 
bedroom in Sagamore Hill; I. S. Seidman for New York 
City street photographs in 1919; Princeton University for 
the photographs of Woodrow Wilson. The American Mu- 
seum of Natural History allowed me to reproduce its 
diorama of the Bad Lands, the Kansas City Historical 
Society sent me the portrait of Senator Bristow. 

To all individuals and institutions my heartfelt thanks for 
their courtesies. 


Part 1: 



The transatlantic cable, at last completed, on August 5, 1858, sputtered its 
first message. Victoria, then in the twenty-second year of her long reign, sent 
her congratulations to President Buchanan, who cabled back a greeting. But 
even these high personages could not ward off the lampoons directed from the 
start at the cable. A parody of the official exchange found its way into the New 
York Evening Post, evading the eye of its impeccably mannered editor, William 
Cullen Bryant: 

"Dear Juchanan: I send this by my rope." 
"Dear Victoria: I send this to Europe." 

One hundred guns at Battery Park boomed a salute to the miracle, and bril- 
liant plumes of fireworks emblazoned the skies above City Hall, incidentally 
setting fire to the cupola and roof. The celebration ended ignominiously and 
so did the cable. After a few more spurts it went dead, and skeptics declared 
it a hoax. 

In this year of marvels 1858 the young United States of America, with a 
population of almost thirty million scattered among thirty-two "sovereign" 
states, signed favorable trade treaties with Japan and China and opened a 
diplomatic mission in Bulgaria, Napoleon III stood ready to invade Italy, and 
Alexander II had just added a large slice of Chinese territory to "all the Rus- 
sias." Frederick William IV was adjudged insane, and his brother William 
paunchy and oblivious of the great destiny that Bismarck was forging for him 
became regent of Prussia. 

The Ottoman Empire, still swayed by Western ideas acquired during the 
Crimean War, abolished feudal land holdings. Mexico's liberal government, 
set up by Benito Juarez, was recognized by the United States within a year. 
The British Government, also undergoing modernization, dissolved the East 
India Company and transferred to the Crown the administration of India. 
The intrepid Livingstone was trekking through Africa for the third time. The 
Suez Canal Company was organized. 

In the United States itself, the Missouri Compromise had been declared un- 
constitutional, the Dred Scott decision had affirmed that a slave was property 
and thus not eligible for citizenship, and Mrs. Stowe's Uncle Tom's Cabin, 
though published in 1852, was efficiently rousing antislavery feeling. Lincoln 
had already declared that "a house divided against itself cannot stand . . . this 
government cannot endure permanently half slave and half free" when, in 
August, he began his debates with Stephen A. Douglas. At Freeport, Illinois, 13 

before 15,000 people, he asked the Little Giant the fateful question: "Can the 
people of a United States territory, in any lawful way . . . exclude slavery 
from its limits, prior to the formation of a state constitution?" Although only 
a senatorial seat was immediately involved, the whole country was listening to 
the debates, for Douglas aspired to the presidency. Answering honestly, Douglas 
lost his chance to carry the South: "I answered emphatically . . . that in my 
opinion the people of a territory can, by lawful means, exclude slavery from 
their limits prior to the formation of a state constitution. ..." 

On October 25, Senator William H. Seward, speaking at Rochester, de- 
clared: "It is an irrepressible conflict between opposing forces and it means 
that the United States must and will, sooner or later, become entirely a slave- 
holding nation or entirely a free-labor nation." That speech clarified the posi- 
tion of the four-year-old Republican party and uncovered the fundamental 
cause of the conflict: free vs. slave labor. 

Two days later Theodore Roosevelt was born. 

The Roosevelt (pronounced Rose-a-veh) family in America goes back to 
Klaes Martensen van Rosenvelt, who forsook his Dutch rose fields to settle in 
New Amsterdam in 1644. Theodore Roosevelt later described this ancestor as 
a " 'settler' the euphemistic name for an immigrant who came over in the 
steerage of a sailing ship in the seventeenth century instead of a steerage of a 
steamer in the nineteenth century." Klaes and his wife landed on Manhattan 
Island only eighteen years after Peter Minuit had bought it from the Indians 
for the equivalent of twenty-four dollars. Their son Nicholas was the first 
Roosevelt born in America, in 1658. When New Amsterdam, on passing to 
England, became New York, van Rosenvelts gave way to Roosevelts and inter- 
married with Scotch, Irish, Welsh, Huguenot French, and Germans. T.R. 
shrewdly exploited this mixed ancestry: "Ah! So you're Scotch!" he would say 
to a Scotchman. "Well, I have Scotch blood, too!" There is a story that he 
automatically greeted a Jewish caller at the White House with these words: 
"Congratulations! I am partly Jewish, too!" 

The Roosevelts became merchants, traders, bankers. Great-grandfather 
James, with others of the clan, served in the Continental Army during the 
Revolution. When the fighting was over, he opened a hardware store in Maiden 
Lane, which continued untier the name "James Roosevelt and Son" until 1824. 
The "and Son" referred to Cornelius Van Schaack Roosevelt, who at his 
father's death inherited both a fortune and the knack of handling money. He 
invested in many businesses, bought real estate, engaged in importing, and 
became one of the richest men in New York, right behind Cornelius Vanderbilt, 
Alexander T. Stewart, and William B. Astor. 

When T R.'s father, the youngest of "the five horrid Roosevelt boys," was 
nineteen, he was carried off to Georgia by Hilborne West, a young Philadel- 
phia doctor, who was his brother-in-law. West was in love with Susan Elliott, 
a beautiful Southern girl. Theodore met Susan's fifteen-year-old half sister, 
Martha Bulloch, and was charmed by her. Three years later on December 2, 
14 1853, they were married. The wedding was held at Roswell, the Bullochs' 

estate in Georgia. Ice was hauled from Savannah more than two hundred 
miles distant to make ice cream, served at the wedding reception. Cornelius 
Van Schaack Roosevelt gave the newlywed couple a brownstone house on East 
Twentieth Street, and there a year later their first child, Anna, was born. 
And there, at a quarter to eight on the evening of October 27, 1858 while 
carriages were hurrying New York society to hear Mile. Piccolomini in Doni- 
zetti's opera, The Daughter of the Regiment their second child, Theodore, first 
saw the light of the world. 

New York was the city for shopping. At this time, it had a population of 
seven hundred and fifty thousand; its sister city, Brooklyn, had two hundred 
thousand inhabitants. Horse-drawn cars, charging a six-cent fare, ran on 
Second, Third, Sixth, Eighth, and Ninth avenues. More than four hundred 
stages called "omnibuses" rumbled through the paved streets, and ferries 
connected upper Manhattan with the city. The Battery and lower Broadway 
constituted the hub of the metropolis, featuring modish shops, theaters, hotels, 
and offices. The finest houses lined Union and Madison squares; only a few 
mansions ventured onto upper Fifth Avenue. 

Lumberyards, brick and lime kilns, stables, warehouses, and distilleries 
crowded Chelsea the West Twenties. The Thirties reeked with the stench of 
slaughterhouses, though the immigrant workmen did not seem to mind, judging 
by the shacks and shanties that sprouted near by. Upper New York City, 
a rocky wasteland, was overrun with pigs and goats. Hordes of squatters, many 
of them Irish immigrants, built makeshift hovels here, drank goat's milk, and 
fed themselves the flesh of their skinny pigs; their huts they heated with coal 
salvaged from the ashes dropped by the railroad engines. Harlem, a self- 
contained village, was an hour-and-twenty-minute ride by Third Avenue 
horsecar from lower Broadway. It was easier to take a boat for a visit to New 
York than going overland. 

"The great characteristic of New York," asserted Miller's Guide, "is din and 
excitement everything is done in a hurry all is intense anxiety. It is espe- 
cially noticeable in the thoroughfare of Broadway, where the noise and con- 
fusion caused by the incessant passing and repassing of some eighteen thousand 
vehicles a day render it a Babel scene of confusion." This already famed 
thoroughfare was paved as far north as Forty-fourth Street and was adorned 
with marble and stone buildings of "great architectural elegance." 

In the shopping district, Stewart's Marble Palace, the largest dry-goods 
store in the world, had a stock worth $50,000,000. Brooks Brothers was the 
fashionable men's shop, and society flocked to Tiffany's for silverware and 
jewelry. The city's newest building, "a noble structure," five stories tall, housed 
the offices and presses of the New York Times. Among the many hotels, the best 
publicized were the Astor House, the Metropolitan ("with thirteen thousand 
yards of carpeting"), the St. Nicholas ("lighted by gas ... As security against 
fire the entire establishment can be deluged with water in five minutes"), the 
Prescott House, the Fifth Avenue Hotel (soon to feature the first passenger 
elevator), and the Brevoort. Throughout the city, rooming houses catered to 15 

the less affluent, their rates ranging from three dollars to twelve and a half cents 
a week. Guides and guidebooks spoke of the inconveniences and possible perils 
of the twelve-and-a-half-cent variety. 

The largest and most expensive restaurants were Taylor's, Thompson's, and 
Maillard's. Oysters were the most esteemed delicacy; for them New Yorkers 
spent $15,000 a day during the season. They were especially featured at 
Florence's, Kiefe's, and Delmonico's (which was soon to become the ultra- 
fashionable rendezvous). 

New York in 1858 also had despite three hundred churches its bad side. 
Its "odors and . . . malaria might rival those of a medieval town." The Battery, 
at one time the city's fairest green, had become a noxious waste, and Castle 
Garden, where Jenny Lind sang in 1850, had been degraded into a brutally 
managed herding place for most immigrants into the United States. The no- 
torious Five Points, though somewhat tidied up, still spilled its crime over the 
city. "Its neighbors were miserable tumble-down buildings swarming with 
squalid men, women, and children of every hue; liquor shops were everywhere, 
and nearly every house was a brothel." And well they might be: a housing 
investigation in 1856 had reported that five families twenty persons often 
lived in a room twelve feet square, with only two beds, no table or chair, and 
no partition or screen. 

Newsboys "slept in boxes, alleys, doorways, under stairways, on hay barges, 
in the coldest weather . . . They were pushed about by the police, and there 
was not a single door in the city open to ... them." This hideous state of affairs 
obtained until a handful of public-spirited citizens, among them Theodore 
Roosevelt, Senior, took heed of their sufferings, and established a lodging 
house for them. 

Bettering the newsboy's lot was the beginning of a reform wave that in 1858 
washed out of office Fernando Wood's corrupt administration, though Wood 
was shortly to play a return engagement on the Tammany ticket and outdo 
even himself in civic depravity. Daniel Tiemann, his successor for a term, 
promised more than he could fulfill. One of the few reforms he managed to 
carry through was the dispersal temporarily of fortunetellers and astrologers. 
Droves of these "witching beldames" (already, the glamorizing influence of the 
press was at work) wfere arrested, but it took a pitched battle at City Hall and 
the intervention of the Seventh Regiment to calm the resentment of their clients. 

In 1858 the year-old Metropolitan Police, successors of the crooked Munic- 
ipal Police, were striving heroically to enforce law and order in the rapidly 
expanding city. Central Park was being laid out, and St. Patrick's Cathedral 
was rising. In line with the general beautifying of the city, Potter's Field was 
moved to Ward's Island, at the intersection of the East and Harlem rivers. 
Staten Island was the scene of a riot which ended in the burning of the quar- 
antine station; with the disappearance of this unpleasant spot the island 
became a fashionable summer resort. Crystal Palace, built to house the World's 
Fair of 1853, burned to the ground early in October, but not before it had 
16 demonstrated the effectiveness of its huge glass windows. And on the day after 

Theodore Roosevelt was born, R. H. Macy opened his first store, on Sixth 
Avenue, one door from Fourteenth Street. 

New York women assiduously followed the mode. Crinolines and hoop 
skirts, introduced by the Empress Eug6nie, became the rage. They were not so 
universally accepted as at the court of Louis Napoleon: the United Brethren 
resolved that "the wearing of the crinoline is incompatible with a true Chris- 
tian profession," and Bishop Russell decided that no woman in a hoop skirt 
could partake of the sacrament. Men, no more notable for their dress than now, 
were bearded luxuriantly: these were the days when "kissing a man without a 
mustache was like eating an egg without salt." 

New Yorkers read the Tribune (Horace Greeley's paper, and the mouthpiece 
of the Republican party), the Times, the Herald, the Sun, the World, and the 
Evening Post for their daily news. If they hungered after sensationalism, they 
read the Police Gazette. The leading magazines were Harper's Weekly, Frank 
Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper, the Ledger, and The Independent. The poets America 
called her best were Bryant, Whittier, Longfellow, and Nathaniel P. Willis 
all best-sellers. Longfellow's Courtship of Miles Standish, published in the very 
month Theodore Roosevelt was born, sold 25,000 copies the first week. The 
historians Bancroft, Motley, and Prescott were all at the height of their fame. 

Theatrical entertainment including oratory was the chief diversion of 
literate New Yorkers. The drearily polished Edward Everett was accepted 
everywhere even in London as the modern Demosthenes. At the Academy 
of Music, performances of opera in Italian starred such artists as Patti and 
Brignoli. The theater cherished memories of Shakespeare readings by Fanny 
Kemble, and Edwin Booth had magnificently interpreted Richard III. Wallack's 
gave the customers their money's worth with a triple bill, Marriage Lottery, Dying 
for Love, and Neptune's Defeat, while Niblo's Garden played Dion Boucicault's 
The Pope of Rome. Laura Keene's Theater played Our American Cousin (the per- 
ennial that Lincoln was seeing the night of his assassination), with Mrs. Keene 
and Joseph Jefferson in the leads. New Yorkers also loved minstrel shows, and 
troupes like Bryant's and Wood's gave regular performances. Barnum's Amer- 
ican Museum, though not a theater, presented its own curious fictions. "The 
Bearded Baby," the infant son of the "Bearded Lady," was Barnum's leading 

"The Bearded Baby" grew up in obscurity, but not so another infant born 
at this time. Of little "Teedie" his grandmother wrote in a letter: "He is as 
sweet and pretty a young baby as I have ever seen," and he weighed eight and 
a half pounds. His mother viewed him in quite a different light. She thought 
him hideous "a cross between a terrapin and Dr. Young." 



Martha Bulloch, one of the most attractive girls of 
Savannah, was born in 1834. She came of an aristo- 
cratic Southern family. Married at 19, she left "Ros- 
well," her spacious Georgia home, for New York, 
where she lived till her dying day. "Mittie" was a frail 
person of delicate health and with a mania for clean- 
liness. She had the habit of taking two baths in suc- 
cession, one for cleaning, the other for rinsing. And 
she spread sheets over chairs so that no stranger 
should soil the fabrics. "Little Motherling," as her 
children adoringly called her, lacked money sense 
and she lacked a sense of time. She never learned to 
handle the household finances, nor was she able to 
keep her appointments. Her youngest daughter, 
Corinne, described her as one of the most beautiful 
women of New York City, a blue-eyed brunette with 
hair of a fine texture and a skin of "the purest and 
most delicate white, more moonlight-white than 
cream-white, and in the cheeks there was a coral, 
rather than a rose, tint." She died in her fiftieth year. 


"My father was the best man I ever knew," wrote 
Theodore Roosevelt in his Autobiography. "He com- 
bined strength and courage with gentleness, tender- 
ness, and great unselfishness." The elder Roosevelt, 
whose name his son inherited, came from one of the 
richest New York families. Born in 1831, he married 
when he was 24 and died at 46. He worked hard, but 
also had a zest for the lighter side of life, enjoyed 
dancing and driving a four-in-hand. He seemed to 
have unbounded energy, which came down to his son, 
made friends easily, was a warmhearted, affectionate 
man who loved people. He was one of the founders of 
the New York Orthopedic Hospital, the Museum of 
Natural History, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, 
the Children's Aid Society and the Newsboys' 
Lodging House. In politics he was a strong Lincoln 
Republican; in religion, a Presbyterian. "Take care 
of your morals first," he advised his son, "your health 
next, and finally your studies." And his son said: 
"I was fortunate enough in having a father whom 
I have always been able to regard as an ideal man." 



It was on the second story of a brownstone house at 33 East 20th Street. The narrow build- 
ing had four floors. Theodore Roosevelt gave a good description of it in his Autobiography. 
"It was furnished in the canonical taste of the New York which George William Curtis de- 
scribed in the Potiphar Papers" he wrote. "The black haircloth furniture in the dining-room 
scratched the bare legs of the children when they sat on it. The middle room was a library, 
with tables, chairs, and bookcases of gloomy respectability. It was without windows, and so 
was available only at night. The front room, the parlor, seemed to us children to be a room of 
much splendor, but was open for general use only on Sunday evening or on rare occasions." 
Theodore, the second child of his parents, was born at quarter of eight in the evening of 
October 27, 1858, as carriages took operagoers to the nearby Academy of Music, where the 
celebrated Mile. Piccolomini was to appear in Donizetti's The Daughter of the Regiment. His 
maternal grandmother, who was present at his birth (as was his paternal grandmother), 
described the event to her daughter Susan, in Philadelphia: "No chloroform or any such 
thing was used, no instruments were necessary, consequently the dear little thing has no 
cuts or bruises about it." She further reported that her newborn grandchild "weighed 8 pounds 
and a half before it was dressed." Although to Grandmother Bulloch the little Theodore 
looked "as sweet and pretty a young baby as I have ever seen," to his mother he seemed 
hideous, "a cross between a terrapin and Dr. Young," a description probably made in jest. 



About three quarters of a million people lived in 
the city, a quarter of a million more than a decade 
before. Half of them were foreign-born, mainly Irish 
and German. In the description of Harper's Weekly, 
"the new magazine of civilization," New York was 

"a huge semi-barbarous metropolis . . . not well 
governed nor ill governed, but simply not gov- 
erned at all with filthy and unlighted streets 
no practical or efficient security for either life or 
property a police not worthy of the name and 



expenses steadily and enormously increasing." New 
York's northern boundary was at 51st Street. Above 
42nd Street, except for villages like Yorkville, Har- 
lem, Bloomingdale, or Manhattanville, there were 
mainly farms. Broadway, no longer a residential 


street, was lined with hotels, stores, theaters, while 
Fifth Avenue, now a paved thoroughfare, was studded 
with residences of the wealthy. The palaces of the 
rich and the shanties of the poor gave a dramatic 
contrast of life in the rapidly growing metropolis. 



The heart of the city. Here were the big stores like A. 
T. Stewart's Marble Palace, the largest dry-goods 
store in the world, here were the big hotels: the St. 
Nicholas, lighted by gas; the Astor House, which gave 
free lunches in its bar; the Metropolitan, advertising 
thirteen thousand yards of carpeting. Here were the 
fashionable eating places, the theaters and the dance 
halls. Here was Barnum's Museum, and here were 
the houses of ill repute, which lured the men of 
the city and those who came to New York to enjoy 
the excitement the budding metropolis had to offer. 


One of the few outstanding buildings of the city, but 
fallen into neglect. The dazzling pyrotechnics with 
which New York celebrated the laying of the Atlantic 
Cable, the very month Theodore Roosevelt was born, 
set the building on fire, burned up its cupola and 
half of its roof, and came near destroying the county 
clerk's office and unsettling the titles to half the 
property in the city. The contemporary diarist 
George Templeton Strong observed dryly: "The Hall 
presents a most bedraggled and crestfallen appear- 
ance, all singed and reeky and shorn of its headpiece." 

MARKET SLIP with a view of the harbor, one of 
the busiest in the nation. From here hundreds of 
Yankee clipper ships set sail to all parts of the world. 

JAMES STREET was like all other streets in New 
York at the time badly paved, badly lit, with filth 
and garbage in the gutters, a vile stench in the air. 


tesfote#*k\ ' - ; ^ ,-" 


at the corner of Wall and Nassau streets, an example 
of the Greek Revival, a solid, firm, and imposing 
building. The artist pictured a scene of peace and 
serenity, but for a contemporary chronicler the signs 
of the times were not so rosy. "Our imminent pressing 
peril is neither foreign influence nor the slave power, 
but simple barbarism," said George Templeton Strong. 
"Life and property grow less and less secure. Law, 
legislature and judiciary are less respected. . . . Our 
civilization is decaying. We are in our decadence. 
An explosion and wrath must be at hand ..." 


New York at this time, so one observer remarked, 
"possessed a large wealthy class whose members did 
not quite know how to get the most pleasure from 
their money. With singular poverty of imagination 
they proceeded on the assumption that to enjoy their 
wealth they must slavishly imitate the superficial 
features, and the defects rather than the merits of the 
life of the wealthy classes of Europe, instead of bor- 
rowing only its best traits, and adapting even these 
to their own surroundings. They put wealth above 
everything else, and therefore vulgarized their lives." 

THE FIVE POINTS, the hide-out of the organ- 
ized gangs the Dead Rabbits, the Empire Club, 
Mike Walsh's Spartan Band the lowest of the low. 

CHATHAM STREET, the habitat of the Bowery 
Boys, a tough gang of hoodlums. It was unsafe for a 
well-dressed citizen to venture into this neighborhood. 


ONE DAY IN THE SUMMER OF 1860 the Roosevelt carriage took the infant Theodore 
uptown on Broadway to a photographer's studio. Broadway according to a contemporary 
guidebook was rendered "a Babel scene of confusion" by the incessant passing and repassing 
of some eighteen thousand vehicles. One surmises that eighteen-month-old Teedie was not 
disturbed by the din of the traffic he liked movement and he liked excitement. The result 
of the trip was the portrait on the right, showing a demure little boy, dressed up in his 
best Sunday clothes the first photographic likeness of America's twenty-sixth President. 



Martha Stewart Bulloch (1834- 
1884), second wife of James Ste- 
phens Bulloch, was first married 
to John Elliott, while Elliott's 
daughter was married to James 
Stephens Bulloch. When both El- 
liott and his daughter Hester died, 
Martha became Mrs. Bulloch. 


Cornelius Van Schaack Roosevelt 
(1794-1871) was one of the 
wealthiest men of New York. His 
ancestors, the Roosevelts, came 
from Holland in the 17th cen- 
tury. He ran the family export 
business in Maiden Lane, lived 
on Union Square at Broadway. 


Margaret Barnhill (1799-1861), 
wife of Cornelius Van Schaack 
Roosevelt, came from Philadel- 
phia of Irish ancestry. On Sun- 
days her five sons and their 
families came to her sumptuous 
home on Broadway. At such times 
the Roosevelts spoke Dutch. 


James Dunwody Bulloch, Theo- 
dore Roosevelt's beloved "Uncle 
Jimmy," was the son of James S. 
Bulloch by his first wife, Hester 
Amarintha Elliott. In the Civil 
War he served as an admiral in 
the Confederate Navy, and was 
the builder of the warship Alabama. 


Anna Bulloch lived with the 
Roosevelts until her marriage in 
1866 to James K. Gracie. "She 
was as devoted to us children as 
was my mother herself, and we 
were equally devoted to her in 
return." She taught the children 
to read and to enjoy good books. 


Irvine Stephens Bulloch, the son 
of James S. Bulloch by his sec- 
ond wife, Martha Stewart, 
served in the Confederate Navy 
as a midshipman on the Alabama. 
After the Civil War he lived in 
voluntary exile with his wife and 
children at Liverpool, England. 




Theodore Roosevelt was two and one half years old at the time of the open- 
ing of the Civil War. The firing on the flag at Fort Sumter split the nation, 
driving a wedge into every home and family. 

The Roosevelt family was no exception. Theodore's father was an antislavery 
Republican, while his wife, his mother-in-law, his sister-in-law all living 
under the same roof were praying for the victory of the Southern arms. On 
one occasion Grandmother Bulloch exclaimed that she would "rather be 
buried in one common grav? than live under the same government again." 
James and Irvine Bulloch, brother and half brother of Mrs. Roosevelt, fought 
under the Confederate colors, but the Roosevelt clan was solidly for the 
North. That there were debates and arguments about the war in the Roose- 
velt home, one can assume. In a letter to his wife, the father of Theodore Roose- 
velt wrote: "I wish we sympathized together on this question of so vital 
moment to our country." What Mittie answered, we do not know, but her son 
noted that his mother was until her dying day an "unreconstructed" Southerner. 

The elder Theodore Roosevelt, a "Lincoln Republican," was wholeheartedly 
for the Union cause. Though he did not join the forces and so his grand- 
daughter recalls even paid for a substitute, he worked assiduously for the 
success of the North. He joined the Loyal Publication Society, an organization 
which tried to enlighten the public about the reasons for the war; he was a 
member of the Union League Club's executive committee, which helped to 
raise and equip the first colored troops; he lobbied in Washington for the 
creation of an allotment commission, whose duty would be to induce the re- 
cruits to send their families some of their pay. And when the bill instituting 
the Allotment Commission was passed, and he was named as one of the three 
commissioners for New York, he traveled from camp to camp and urged the 
men to support their families with allotments. As the war moved toward its 
close, he was one of the organizers of the Protective War Claim Association, 
which collected back pay and pensions for the soldiers, and a founder of the 
Soldiers' Employment Bureau, which tried to find work for crippled veterans. 

Why the elder Theodore failed to join the colors is not known. In 1861, when 
the war began, he was twenty-nine years old, healthy and able, fit to be a sol- 
dier. Why wouldn't he carry arms? It is interesting to speculate whether his 
son disappointed in his father's failure forced himself to make amends, 
whether this was the underlying reason for his rushing into the Spanish- 
American War and trying to prove a fearlessness whenever an occasion arose. 

Obviously the children of the period took sides in the conflict, even though 27 

not old enough to understand it. Little Theodore was no exception. He was 
against the South, especially when he "had been wronged by maternal dis- 
cipline during the day." At one such time he prayed "with loud fervor for the 
success of the Union army," pleading with "divine Providence to grind the 
Southern troops to powder." He raised his voice, making sure that his Southern 
mother would hear his prayers. Mittie was amused by it, but Father told 
his son never to do it again. 

Theodore's aunt, Anna Bulloch, who lived with the family, relates an epi- 
sode from the early months of the war. It is undoubtedly the first character 
sketch of Theodore Roosevelt. Teedie, as he was called by the family, was to 
be fitted for a Zouave shirt it was fashionable for little boys to dress like the 
warring soldiers. Anna described the scene: "Yesterday Teedie was really ex- 
cited when I said to him, 'Darling, I must fit this Zouave shirt or Mamma can- 
not have it made.' " At first Teedie would not have any part of it, but then he 
said: "Are me a soldier laddie?" And when his aunt assured him that he was, 
he willingly took his orders from "Captain" Anna. 

The war caused little change in the Roosevelt home. The children Anna, 
born in 1855, Theodore in 1858, Elliott in 1860, and Corinne in 1861 stayed 
in their New York home during the winter months, and in the summers they 
vacationed at Madison, New Jersey. And while North and South fought out 
their differences on the battlefields, the Roosevelt children lived a serene, 
peaceful, sheltered life. 

Theodore was not a healthy child. He related in his Autobiography: "I was a 
sickly, delicate boy, suffered much from asthma, and frequently had to be 
taken away on trips to find a place where I could breathe. One of my 
memories is of my father walking up and down the room with me in his arms 
at night when I was a very small person, and of sitting up in bed gasping, 
with my father and mother trying to help me." Many are the family records 
speaking of his asthma attacks, stomach disorders, and other ailments. 

The fighting went on the year of 1861, the year of Bull Run, was followed 
by 1862, the year of the Peninsular Campaign, Antietam and Fredericksburg, 
and 1863, the year of Chancellorsville, Gettysburg, Vicksburg, and yet the end 
was not in sight. 

A West Point cadet wrote after the fall of Sumter to his brother in Georgia: 
"This war is not going to be the 90 day affair that the papers and politicians 
are predicting. It is going to be fought to the bitter end. For your cause there 
is but one result. It must be lost. Your whole population is about eight mil- 
lions while the North has 20 millions. Of your eight millions, three millions 
are slaves who may become an element of danger. You have no army, no 
navy, no treasury, and practically none of the manufactures and machine 
shops necessary for the support of large armies and for war on a large scale. 
You are but scattered agricultural communities, and you will be cut off from 
the rest of the world by blockade. Your cause is foredoomed to failure." What 
an accurate prophecy this was! But at that time very few in the South would 
28 have believed in its correctness. 

President Lincoln, vacillating at first, was firm on the basic point the pres- 
ervation of the Union. He saw that the bedrock issue in the controversy was 
the survival of democracy itself. "We must settle this question now," he said, 
"whether, in a free government, the minority have the right to break up the 
government whenever they choose. If we fail, it will go far to prove the in- 
capacity of the people to govern themselves." 

He was searching for a capable war leader, and his search did not come to 
an end until General Ulysses S. Grant was made the head of the Army. By then 
three years had passed, three years of anxiety, of blood, of reverses. General 
George B. McClellan, who replaced old and infirm General Scott, the hero of 
the Mexican War, was himself relieved after his failure to pursue the Con- 
federates at Antietam. General Ambrose Burnside had to go after the bloody 
defeat at Fredericksburg; General Joseph Hooker, who followed him and 
under whose command the battle of Chancellorsville was lost, had to resign 
to make way for General George Meade. It was after Gettysburg and Vicks- 
burg that Lincoln turned to the man who was to bring the war to its victorious 
conclusion General Grant, ^ne new head of the Army moved with bulldog 
tenacity after Lee, fought stubbornly in the region called the Wilderness, 
then shifted strategy and attempted to force his way through the peninsula. 
He would fight it out before Richmond, he said, even "if it takes all summer." 
It took all summer and more. 

Under Grant and Sherman the war took on a new look. The days of gentle- 
manliness were gone. "If the people raise a howl against my barbarity and 
cruelty, I will answer that war is war, and not popularity seeking," declared 
Sherman. He captured Atlanta, hunted out its citizenry, moved across Georgia 
to the sea, cutting a swath of devastation sixty miles wide and making the state 
"an example to rebels." By Christmas 1864 he had taken Savannah. 

A few weeks before, Lincoln had been re-elected, defeating his Democratic 
opponent, who was none other than General McClellan. In his second inau- 
gural the President held out a generous hand to the South; he was ready to 
forgive and forget. Spring came, the spring of 1865, and the end of the fighting. 

On April 9, at Appomattox, General Lee surrendered his army to Grant, 
and Grant soberly advised his troops: "The rebels are our countrymen again; 
and the best sign of rejoicing after the victory will be to abstain from all dem- 
onstrations in the field." 

Less than a week later, on April 14, John Wilkes Booth, the actor, shot 
Abraham Lincoln while the President was listening to a play at Ford's Theatre. 

At that time Theodore Roosevelt was six and a half years old. He already 
knew how to read, and he enjoyed books, especially those which dealt with 
adventure. "I felt a great admiration for men who were fearless and who 
could hold their own in the world, and I had a great desire to be like them." 


REPUBLICAN CONTENDERS for the presiden- Middle row: William Pennington of New Jersey, 

tial nomination, as pictured in Harper's Weekly in Salmon P. Chase and John McLean of Ohio, Simon 

1860. In the center, William H. Seward of New Cameron of Pennsylvania. Bottom row: John C. 

York, the favorite; top left, Edward Bates of Mis- Fr6mont, the party's candidate in 1856, John Bell of 

souri; top right, Nathaniel P. Banks of Massachusetts. Tennessee, and old Cassius M. Clay of Kentucky. 


Abraham Lincoln, the little- 
known Illinois lawyer, became 
the Republicans' standard-bearer. 
The delegates in the Chicago 
convention believed it was better 
to choose a candidate whose 
opinions on the slavery issue were 
not so well known as those of 
William Seward, who spoke of it 
as an "irrepressible conflict." 
During the entire campaign Lin- 
coln remained at his home in 
Springfield, where he received 
well-wishers and demonstrators 
(in the photograph Lincoln is 
standing at the doorway), but 
kept a tight lip on political issues. 



Democratic party split into two factions one sup- 
porting slavery, the other opposing it and as each 
of these factions named a candidate (the pro-slavery 
Democrats lining up behind John C. Breckinridge, 
the anti-slavery faction behind Stephen A. Douglas), 
Abraham Lincoln, the Republican contender, won 
the election though his popular vote was less than 
the combined strength of his opponents. He polled 
1,866,452 votes against Douglas's 1,376,957, Breck- 
inridge's 849,781, and John BeH's ( (the candidate of 
the Constitutional Union party) 588,879. The electoral 
vote gave Lincoln 180, Breckinridge 72, Bell 39, and 
Douglas 12. 

The figures showed that the majority of the 
country was for the preservation of the Union and 
for keeping the peace. John C. Breckinridge, the 
only pro-slavery and secession candidate, was 
supported by less than one fifth of the electorate. 

Lincoln's election seven states seceded from the 
Union, formed a confederacy, and named Jefferson 
Davis as its first President. Davis, born in Kentucky, 
began his education in a Roman Catholic seminary, 
although he was not a Catholic himself. After study- 
ing at Transylvania University, he entered West Point, 
from where he was graduated in 1828. He fought in 
the Mexican War under Zachary Taylor, whose 
daughter became his first wife; then served in Con- 
gress both as congressman and senator from Missis- 
sippi. In 1853 he became Secretary of War in Presi- 
dent Pierce's Cabinet, and in 1857 he re-entered the 
Senate. Following the admission of California and the 
failure to extend the Missouri Compromise line, Davis 
was one of those Southern politicians who believed 
that secession was the only answer. He desired a South- 
ern nation committed to the preservation of the 
Southern social order a nation within the Union. 


the unfinished Capitol, Abraham Lincoln appealed 
to the South and pleaded for the preservation of the 
Union. "A husband and wife may be divorced and 
go out of the presence and beyond the reach of each 
other; but the different parts of our country cannot 

do this," he said on March 4, 1861. "In your hands, 
my dissatisfied fellow countrymen, and not in mine, 
is the momentous issue of the Civil War. The gov- 
ernment will not assail you." But the South would 
no longer listen to sensible arguments. The seceded 
states were ready to fight with arms for their rights. 



At 4:30 in the morning of April 12, 1861, the Con- 
federate batteries in Charleston Harbor opened fire 
on Fort Sumter. They were the first shots in the 
Civil War a war which was to last four years. 

Ever since that April day people have debated 
why North and South could not settle their differ- 
ences through peaceful means. Ever since then peo- 
ple have argued about the reasons that led America 
to such frightful bloodletting. The immediate cause 
for the war was slavery, but that issue alone would 
not have erupted into armed conflict. There were 
other important underlying factors. ( 1 ) North and 
South had grown into sections of widely disparate 
social, economic, and political character. While the 
South was predominantly agricultural, the North 
had become urban and industrialized. With indus- 
trialization had come high tariffs and centralized 
banking each an anathema to the South. (2) The 
Northern population had outgrown that of the South, 
as had Northern political representation in Congress. 

(3) Southerners were apprehensive that in the future 
the North would dictate the nation's policies, regard- 
less of Southern interests. (4) Southern men believed 
the Union was a conglomeration of states; as each 
state was supreme in its own right, each had the 
right to secede from the Union. (5) The masses of 
immigrants coming from Europe gravitated to the 
cities in the North, avoiding the South and its slave- 
holding society. They were hesitant to settle in places 
where the scions of old families ruled in a paternal- 
istic way. Thus progress in the South was retarded. 
(6) The abolitionist agitation in the North caused a 
severe financial loss to Southern slaveholders; each 
fugitive slave meant a loss of investment. Southern 
extremists not only asked for a strict execution of the 
Fugitive Slave Law, but demanded the extension 
of the slavery line. On the other hand, extremists in 
the North pleaded for the total abolition of slavery. 
The discord between the factions was fostered by 
hotheaded politicians, by emotional fanatics, until 
there was no way to bring about a peaceful solution. 



This is Hagerstown Pike after the battle of Antietam. It is September 1862, the second year 
of the war. Thus far, in the main, eastern theater, the North had suffered defeat after de- 
feat. The battle of Bull Run at the opening of the hostilities showed how poorly the North 
was prepared. Its troops were gredh, untrained, their number small. Lincoln had asked the 
states for only 75,000 volunteers. The head of the Army was Winfield Scott, hero of 
the Mexican War, a man in his seventies. When he resigned his post, young and ambitious 
George B. McClellan took his place and began in earnest to weld a fighting force. But it 
took him almost a full year much to the desperation of Lincoln and the Republican 
pressbefore he was ready to move into battle. In the spring of 1862 he took the Army up 
the peninsula in an effort to capture Richmond. But when his outposts were only five miles 
from the capital of the Confederacy, he was checked. Compelled to give up his position, he 
retreated, fighting a series of savage engagements the Seven Days' Battles. To the failure 
of the Peninsular campaign was added General John Pope's defeat in the second battle of 
Manassas. Pope was relieved, and once more Lincoln asked General McClellan to head the 
troops. Under his leadership the battle of Antietam was fought and won. But when vain- 
glorious McClellan was hesitant to take up the pursuit of Lee, Lincoln dismissed him. The 
President would no longer keep a general who had "the slows." He wanted a man of action. 



In the first week of November 1862 President Lincoln replaced McClellan with General 
Ambrose E. Burnside, the man whose side whiskers added a new word to our vocabulary. 
Burnside attacked Fredericksburg on December 13. It was a mad attempt of a frontal 
charge. The Confederates, who had had time to entrench themselves in the city, mowed 
down the attackers as a reaper levels cornstalks. By nightfall Burnside 's losses mounted to 
12,000 men. In his tent the general buried his head in his hands, crying: "Oh! Oh, those 
men! Oh, those men!" It was one of the worst reverses the North suffered. Lincoln confided 
to a friend: "We are on the brink of destruction. It appears to me the Almighty is against 
us and I can hardly see a ray of hope." Burnside's own officers implored the President not 
to leave the army under the general's command. At first Lincoln was hesitant, but when 
Burnside and his officers began to fight among themselves, the President had no choice 
but to remove him. In his stead he appointed General Joseph Hooker, an aggressive and 
brave officer, prone to boasting and bragging. "Fighting Joe" Hooker had no more luck 
with Lee than had Burnside. At the battle of Chanccllorsvillc he suffered a disastrous 
defeat. Once more Lincoln had to make a change. He removed Hooker from his command 
on June 28, 1863, and replaced him with General George Gordon Meade, "the old 
snapping turtle." A week later Meade led the North into the battle of Gettysburg. 



Now they lie peacefully on the battlefield of Gettysburg, the little Pennsylvania village where, 
on the first three days of July 1863, one of the greatest battles of the war was waged. The 
Union forced Lee to retreat into Virginia; never again could his Army cross the border. At 
about the same time General Grant captured Vicksburg, sealing off the Confederacy be- 
yond the Mississippi. These two major victories turned the tide of the war for the Union. 

A few months later President Lincoln left Washington to dedicate the National Cemetery 
at Gettysburg. The committee for the ceremonies did not believe that Lincoln would be 
able to make the main oration, so he was asked only to make some "dedicatory remarks." 
The President spoke briefly, his speech over almost before it began. But his words have re- 
mained alive and will last as long as the English language. "The world will little note, nor 
long remember what we say here," said Lincoln, "but it can never forget what they did here. 
It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who 
fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the 
great task remaining before us. . . ." And he solemnly declared "that these dead shall not 
have died in vain that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom and 
that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth." 



Theodore Roosevelt as he looked in the 
all of 1863, about the time President 
Abraham Lincoln spoke at Gettysburg. 


Abraham Lincoln, photographed in No- 
ember 1863, a few days before he jour- 
eyed to Gettysburg to deliver his address* 

GENERAL GRANT AND HIS STAFF at Massaponax Church, Virginia, on May 21, 
1864. Sitting on the bench in the center, from left to right, are General Horace Porter reading 
a newspaper, General Grant, General Rawlins, and Ely S. Parker. On the far end of the left 
bench is General Meade, under whom the battle of Gettysburg was fought. 

It is the last day of "trench warfare" at Spotsylvania. The Union had been struggling for 
the last two weeks, suffering tremendous casualties. Since the opening of the Wilderness 
campaign, Grant had lost 55,000 men, almost as many as Lee's entire Army. But with bull- 
dog tenacity he pushed on. His strategy was rudimentary to harass and attack Lee until 
the Confederacy was depleted. President Lincoln approved the general's plans and did not 
interfere with him. Two months before the above photograph was taken, Congress had re- 
vived the rank of Lieutenant General of the Army, a rank held previously only by George 
Washington, ^and Lincoln conferred the title upon Grant. In him the President had at 
last found his general. "He is my man and I am his until the end of the war," he said. 


GENERAL SHERMAN AND HIS STAFF. While General Grant was hammering against 
the Confederate capital, General William Tecumseh Sherman was pushing a Southern 
army back to Atlanta in Georgia. At the beginning of September he occupied the city, re- 
quiring "that all the citizens and families resident in Atlanta should go away I resolved 

to make Atlanta a pure military garrison or depot, with no civil population to influence 
military measures." From Atlanta, Sherman began his march to the sea, leaving a wide 
swath of destruction as his men moved through the country. Sherman's "bummers" lived 
on the land, looted, burned and destroyed property as they marched along. "War is hell," 
Sherman's well-known maxim, was proved to the full. By December 22, 1864, his army 
was at the shore of the Atlantic Ocean. "I beg to present you as a Christmas gift the city of 
Savannah," Sherman wired to President Lincoln. And Lincoln thanked him: "Now, the 
undertaking being a success, the honor is all yours." Sherman's success cut into the last re- 
maining Southern railroad arteries. Time was running out for the Confederate States. 


GENERAL GRANT AND HIS STAFF at Massaponax Church, Virginia, on May 21, 
1864. Sitting on the bench in the center, from left to right, are General Horace Porter reading 
a newspaper, General Grant, General Rawlins, and Ely S. Parker. On the far end of the left 
bench is General Meade, under whom the battle of Gettysburg was fought. 

It is the last day of "trench warfare" at Spotsylvania. The Union had been struggling for 
the last two weeks, suffering tremendous casualties. Since the opening of the Wilderness 
campaign, Grant had lost 55,000 men, almost as many as Lee's entire Army, But with bull- 
dog tenacity he pushed on. His strategy was rudimentary to harass and attack Lee until 
the Confederacy was depleted. President Lincoln approved the general's plans and did not 
interfere with him. Two months before the above photograph was taken, Congress had re- 
vived the rank of Lieutenant General of the Army, a rank held previously only by George 
Washington, and Lincoln conferred the title upon Grant. In him the President had at 
last found his general "He is my man and I am his until the end of the war," he said. 


'' ' ' ' """ ''' 

GENERAL SHERMAN AND HIS STAFF. While General Grant was hammering against 
the Confederate capital, General William Tecumseh Sherman was pushing a Southern 
army back to Atlanta in Georgia. At the beginning of September he occupied the city, re- 
quiring "that all the citizens and families resident in Atlanta should go away I resolved 

to make Atlanta a pure military garrison or depot, with no civil population to influence 
military measures." From Atlanta, Sherman began his march to the sea, leaving a wide 
swath of destruction as his men moved through the country. Sherman's "bummers" lived 
on the land, looted, burned and destroyed property as they marched along. "War is hell," 
Sherman's well-known maxim, was proved to the full. By December 22, 1864, his army 
was at the shore of the Atlantic Ocean. "I beg to present you as a Christmas gift the city of 
Savannah," Sherman wired to President Lincoln. And Lincoln thanked him: "Now, the 
undertaking being a success, the honor is all yours." Sherman's success cut into the last re- 
maining Southern railroad arteries. Time was running out for the Confederate States. 


rubble of stones and masonry remained of this 
beautiful city after its evacuation by the troops. 

RICHMOND IN RUINS. After the Confederate 
government left the capital, orders were given to 
destroy the city's arsenals, warehouses, and bridges. 

THE END OF THE WAR. General Robert E. 
Lee on April 9, 1865, signs the surrender terms at 
Appomattox. General Grant is sitting at center table. 

ENJOYING FREEDOM. Great numbers of former 
slaves roamed the countryside, going from one place 
to the other, exhilarated by their new-found life. 


The end of the fighting was in sight. It had been a 
cruel war, with more than 750,000 casualties. The 
best of the young men lay in their graves. The Union 
was saved. Yet when the guns grew silent, new prob- 
lems arose puzzling, perplexing, and difficult ones. 
The foremost of these one which had to be answered 
immediately was how the two antagonistic sections 
could live in peace. Lincoln told a Southerner: "I 
love the Southern people more than they love me. 
My desire is to restore the Union. I do not intend to 
hurt the hair of the head of a single man in the 
South if it can possibly be avoided." 


On a somber and drizzly day in March 1865, with 
a cold gusty wind blowing, President Lincoln stood 
before the now-finished Capitol in Washington and 
spoke the immortal lines of his second inaugural: 
"With malice toward none; with charity for all; with 
firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, 
let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind 
up the nation's wounds; to care for him who shall 
have borne the battle, and for his widow and his 
orphan, to do all which may achieve and cherish a 
just and a lasting peace, among ourselves, and with 
all nations." 



The war was over, the Union saved. Richmond had fallen on April 3, the Confederacy 
surrendered on April 9. A day after Richmond's fall the unguarded President visited the 
captured Confederate capital. To General WcitzcPs question about the treatment of the 
conquered people, Lincoln answered: "If I were in your place, I'd let 'em up easy, let 'em 
up easy." On April 14 the President went to Ford's Theatre in Washington. And while he 
was listening to the comedy, Our American Cousin, John Wilkes Booth, a member of the 
celebrated theatrical family, shot him with a small derringer. Then, jumping from the 
presidential box to the stage, the assassin shouted melodramatically: "The South is avenged!" 
At the back door his horse was waiting; Booth mounted it and fled. During the night 
Lincoln struggled with death; at 7:22 A.M. he breathed his last. Not until April 26 was his 
murderer discovered hiding in a Virginia barn. There he was cornered by soldiers and shot. 



From the second-story window of his grandfather's house in New York, six-and-a-half-year- 
old Theodore Roosevelt and his brother Elliott (the father of Eleanor Roosevelt) are 
looking at the funeral procession as it passes by the house on the corner of Union Square 
and Broadway. The city was in deep mourning on that April 25, 1865, when the remains 
of the President after having lain in state at the City Hall were taken to the funeral train, 
which was to carry him over a long and circuitous route to Springfield, Illinois. Edith Carow, 
Roosevelt's second wife, who was a childhood friend of Theodore, remembered that she, 
too, went to watch the funeral from Cornelius Van Schaack Roosevelt's residence. But, 
frightened by all the black draperies on the streets, on the lampposts, and the houses, 
she began to cry. Whereupon the two boys, annoyed by the childish behavior, locked her 
up in a back room, and thus little Edith Kermit Carow never did see Lincoln's funeral. 




The New York where young "Teedie" Roosevelt spent his early years was a 
city in transition. It was part of the rapidly changing America which was mov- 
ing away from an individualized, largely rural society to an urban and inter- 
dependent one. The period after the war was an era of contrasts, and nowhere 
in the United States were these contrasts more marked than in the crowded 
streets surrounding the Roosevelt household. New York was a city of extreme 
wealth and wretched poverty, of high culture and sordid vice, of liberal philan- 
thropy and shocking greed. 

For all its showy splendor, New York offered its residents a life of consider- 
able discomfort and for those in the lower income brackets, great suffering. 
The main thoroughfares suffered from congestion. At the close of the war New 
York had about 1 ,400 hackney coaches, seven omnibus lines with 300 vehicles, 
and no less than sixteen separate horse railway lines with some 800 cars and 
8,000 horses. Traffic moved at a snail's pace; fast and easy transportation was 
still a dream of the future, as was suburban development. 

The state of the streets was abominable. Some of them were paved with stone 
blocks, which gave carriage and horsecar riders a wretched, bumping ride, as 
debilitating to the vehicles as it was to the passengers' nerves. Cobblestones, 
still in use, were equally uncomfortable and, like stone blocks, accumulated 
an odorous filth in their cracks. 

For New York's slum dwellers and there were more than 100,000 of them 
at the close of the Civil War urban living meant little but squalor, disease and 
poverty. The city's cellar population alone totaled some 20,000 persons; no- 
where else in the world did so many people live so closely together. The tene- 
ments of the poor had no adequate heating; most of the buildings lacked sewer 
connections. Epidemics cholera, malaria, and others came with great regu- 
larity. The death toll from smallpox, typhoid, and scarlet fever reached startling 

For prosperous families, like the Roosevelts, life was not too bad. But their 
homes were uncomfortable and were tastelessly furnished. Wax flowers and pot- 
ted plants particularly rubber plants were universal in well-appointed 
parlors, and blue glass windowpanes were considered not only beautiful, but 
also an antidote for rheumatism. A decorative whim at this time was the tying 
of huge satin ribbons around piano legs, while the rest of the piano would be 
smothered with draped scarves of Oriental design. 

Young ladies were proud of their plush autograph books, filled with poems 
and sentiments. The gilt-edged pages were full of good wishes like this: 45 


The victorious Union troops parade after the war, in 
Mav 1865. on Washington's Pennsylvania Avenue. 

In the tempest of life, when you need an umbrella 
May it be upheld by a handsome young feller. 

Or a more daring member of the young set might offer: 

You ask me to write something original 
But I don't know where to begin, 
For there's nothing original in me, 
Excepting original sin. 

It became inevitable that the increasing urbanization and industrialization 
would bring new techniques to cope with the problems of congested living. One 
of the most striking was the huge increase in the manufacture of ready-made 
clothing for everyday wear a revolutionary innovation. Another was the 
growth of the canned-food business and the establishment of large commercial 
bakeries. Lives of the housewives were made still easier by the new washing 
and sewing machines, both of which sold in enormous numbers. 

A development of the decade was the apartment house, called the "French 
flat," marking a radical departure in American urban living. Until then, people 
with means had lived either in single residences or in rooming houses. The 
"French flat, 55 like similar apartments in Paris, offered the tenant a private 
and self-sufficient suite of rooms, with bath and kitchen and elevator service. 
The monthly rents were high $100 to $150 was not unusual thus only the 
well-to-do could afford the luxury. But New York had many well-to-do. In 1874, 
four years after the erection of the first apartment building, some 3,000 families 
were enjoying the new and improved way of life. 

The buildings of the city grew higher thanks to the developments in pas- 
senger elevators. While formerly a house with three or four stories was considered 
a tall one, now ten- and twelve-story buildings were erected the beginning of 
Manhattan's sky line. 

In dress, as in most other things, the city set the pace, although Paris 
remained the original source of fashion. The crinoline skirt, popularized by 
Napoleon Hi's Empress Eug6nie, became standard wear in New York by the 
close of the Civil War, as did colored stockings, Empire bonnets, and gold dust 
sprinkled on the hair for formal occasions. Men's clothing remained solemn 
and restrained, with dark 'suits universal for both daytime and evening wear. 
The ungainly stovepipe hat continued to crown men's heads at formal functions; 
and among the more prosperous, a crease in the trousers was looked down 
upon as evidence that the suit was ready-made. 

Men's furnishings for everyday wear included stiff-fronted shirts that buttoned 
in the back, "choker" collars, bow ties, and embroidered suspenders. For both 
men and women, nightgowns were standard bed wear, pajamas being considered 
the affectation of a small and effete minority. Long underwear was worn in all 
seasons. In addition to his many other clothing accessories, the well-appointed 
male carried a handsome gold or silver jeweled toothpick on the end of his 
watch chain. 
46 For the average citizen, life was often as somber as men's attire. Blue laws 

were numerous, Sunday was observed strictly, and the virtue of young women 
was protected by a strict code of proprieties. Among the middle class, even in 
the urban centers, drinking was often frowned upon. Wine was for ceremonial 
occasions only; hard liquors were not for consumption in the home, and cer- 
tainly not in mixed company. Divorces were still out of the ordinary in 1870 
the divorce rate was less than one in 3,000 marriages. 

The somberness of middle-class life was by no means all of urban America, 
for the new rich and the more frivolously fashionable sets saw to it that gaiety 
was not excluded from the daily round. Though many of the oldest New York 
families looked on with disdain, the theaters, music halls, and race tracks did 
a thriving business. During the year following the close of the war, Manhattan's 
theaters took in gross receipts of more than $2,000,000. The opera drew large, 
glittering audiences of jeweled and ostentatiously dressed nouveaux. Abetted by 
the heavy influx of German immigrants, beer gardens sprang up all over New 
York. And the concert saloon a favorite target of moralists offered drinking, 
gay music, and the sight of attractive young ladies at a price which the 
customers could afford. 

The growth of urbanization brought with it the emergence of summer re- 
sorts, where prosperous families retreated during the hot weather. At New- 
port, Rhode Island, New Yorkers who found the hotel occupants too unselective 
began to build great villas that soon made that resort one of the most extrav- 
agant in the world. To the south of New York, Long Branch, New Jersey, 
staked luxurious claims as a place of seaside recreation for fashionable society. 

Naturally, only a small part of the population had the time or the money 
to enjoy resort life. The average worker had no vacations; even the idea 
of making Saturday a half holiday was not generally accepted by employers 
until nearly the close of the century. So most New Yorkers had to enjoy 
simpler pleasures close to home. In winter there was skating at Central Park, 
tobogganing on the huge slide at the old Polo Grounds on upper Fifth Avenue, 
and sleighing for every family that could afford to keep a horse. 

At other seasons of the year rowing, archery, and bicycling were popular, 
while croquet became a tremendous fad at homes with the necessary lawn 
space. Baseball was still in its infancy, but already it was winning out over cricket 
as the national game. Among the city's numerous fraternal organizations, 
rifle teams were highly popular, the sport being pursued at boisterous Sunday 
outings in the country. 

New York, the bustling, fast-growing, hurriedly improving metropolis, was 
the background for Teedie's growing years. He was a city boy, through and 
through. As he was not a strong child still suffering from asthma he was 
not able to play and roam around with other children. Thus he turned into a 
bookish boy. He read incessantly, a habit which he kept throughout his lifetime. 

He also had an "instinctive interest in natural history," and began to write a 
natural history of his own, "written down in blank books in simplified spelling, 
wholly unpremeditated and unscientific." At the age of eight he was busy 
collecting animals, birds, insects, and he always had a pet mouse in his room. 
He had a yearning for nature and its mysteries, a fascination for the outdoors. 47 

THE ROOSEVELT'S HOME ON 20TH STREET. On the first floor of the build- 
ing were the parlor and the library, both opening from the hall. The library had no 
windows and, as Theodore Roosevelt remembered it, "was available only at night." All the 
rooms were furnished in the fashion of the day with ornate, black haircloth furniture. 

THE DINING ROOM ran across the full width 
of the house. Roosevelt recalled later that the 
chairs scratched his legs when he was a child* 

THE PARLOR of the house, with a piano and gilded 
mirrors, was used only when visitors came or when 
the family gathered together for Sunday dinner. 



sickly and delicate, preco- 
cious, constantly fighting 
asthma attacks. An avid 
reader, he became a nat- 
ural-history fan at an early 
age. "I remember distinctly 
the first day that I started 
on my career as a zoolo- 
gist," he recalled in his 
Autobiography. "I was walking 
up Broadway and as I passed 
the market to which I used 
sometimes to be sent before 
breakfast to get strawberries, 
I suddenly saw a dead seal 
laid out on a slab of wood. 
That seal filled me with 
every possible feeling of ro- 
mance and adventure. ... I 
measured it, and I recall 
that, not having a tape 
measure, I had to do my 
best to get its girth with a 
folding pocket foot-rule, a 
difficult undertaking. ... I 
had vague aspirations of in 
some way or another owning 
and preserving that seal, but 
they never got beyond the 
purely formless stage. I think, 
however, I did get the seal's 
skull, and with two of my 
cousins promptly started 
what we ambitiously called 
the 'Roosevelt Museum of 
Natural History.'" 


WAITING FOR THE PAWNSHOP TO OPEN. A large mass of poverty- 
stricken people were living in overcrowded and unhealthy tenement houses. 
The ships brought three to four hundred thousand immigrants mostly Irish 
and Germans to America each year. Their lot was not an enviable one. 
Work was hard, hours long, wages low, opportunities not so rosy and abundant 
as they had seemed from the other side of the ocean. Yet the men came, at 
times with nothing more than a bundle on their backs and a hope for the future. 


New York with its steady 
influx of sight-seers was a 
"good show town." Wai- 
lack's Theatre was a favor- 
ite; Augustin Daly, a former 
journalist, offered glittering 
productions with stars like 
Ada Rehan or John Drew. 
Minstrel and variety shows 
usually drew large audi- 
ences mostly males. Some 
fifteen principal theaters 
competed for public favor. 
There were excellent stock 
companies and great stars. 
Tickets were not expensive. 
Orchestra stalls sold for one 
dollar, while fifty cents ad- 
mitted one to the parquet. 



THE BROKEN LEG ON BROADWAY. It was estimated that 8,000 horses 
were daily on the streets of New York, pulling railway cars. Traffic moved at 
snail's pace. The streets were slippery with filth, the poor pavement was a 
hazard for the animals. To stop the abuse given these horses, Henry Bergh or- 
ganized a society for the protection of animals. In 1866 he succeeded in hav- 
ing the first specific law passed against persons who "maliciously kill, maim, 
wound, injure, torture or cruelly beat any horse, ... or other animal. . . ." 


On the streets of New York 
paraded well-dressed people 
who imported their clothes 
from Europe. The fashion- 
able females dressed like 
their Parisian counterparts, 
while the male of New York 
society imitated the upper 
class of England. The 
"shoddy aristocracy" the 
newly rich who had gained 
affluence because of the war 
played a prominent part 
in the life of the city, trying 
by an ostentatious display of 
luxurious living, expensive 
clothes and jewels to gain 
recognition from the city's 
established social leaders. 



Charles Harvey, the man in frock coat and silk hat, piloting the first car of his elevated 
railroad on a trial half-mile section on Greenwich Street, was one of the most remarkable 
men of his age. Before he provided Manhattan with its chief mode of passenger transpor- 
tation, he was known as the builder of the Soo Canal. Only twenty-three years old, he con- 
ceived the idea of building a canal between Lake Superior and the other lakes. This one-mile 
canal made a thousand-mile waterway possible from Lake Superior right through to the 
Atlantic. Men of great importance believed that such an idea bordered on lunacy. Henry 
Clay declared that it was a pipe dream, "a project beyond the remotest settlement of the 
United States if not the moon," but Harvey could not be discouraged. He sold the idea to 
a few hardheaded Yankee businessmen, and they made him the chief engineer of the 
company. Digging began in the summer of 1853 and went on during the freezing temper- 
atures of the winter months. The diggers rebelled, epidemics decimated their ranks. 
Yet Harvey drove them on. In two years the work was completed and the first boat went 
through the locks. The Soo Canal made the United States the first ironmaking country of 
the world. Ore from the Menominee, the Marquette, the Gogebic and Mesabi ranges could 
be transported to Pittsburgh, making iron, then steel, cheaper, which in turn helped to build 
America in a hurry a tremendous contribution for which Charles Harvey was greatly 
responsible. It is strange that, in spite of these achievements, his name is hardly known today. 


BROADWAY ON A RAINY DAY. The city was ugly, uncomfortable, and unhealthy, 
a breeding ground of malaria and other infectious diseases. It was badly paved. The New 
York Tribune lamented that gutters of the streets were "stopped up and were creamy with 
green stagnant matter that looked like vomit seasoned with giblets of rotten meat." 


than half a million New Yorkers lived in 15,000 
tenement houses. In one block on Avenue B, near the 


East River, fifty-two tenement houses were occupied 
by no less than 2,356 people. On the average, ten 
families lived in each house, but "some swarmed 

with two or three hundred persons." The filth was 
unbelievable, health conditions frightful, infant mor- 
tality enormous. "The dwellers in the tenement 

adjoining ours," wrote an irate observer, "who had 
lived there 28 years, had had 11 children born to 
them, of whom two pale boys were the survivors." 



It was at Castle Garden that 
the men and women who 
came to America were proc- 
essed by immigration author- 
ities. Originally Castle Garden 
was a fort, built in 1811 to 
defend New York. At that time 
its name was Fort Clinton. 
Conveyed to the federal gov- 
ernment in 1824, it became a 
place where social functions 
were held. Between 1855 and 
1890 the garden was a clear- 
ing station for immigrants. 


The middle-class New Yorker 
usually stayed at home in the 
evening and played parlor 
games. The homes of the more 
well-to-do were large but un- 
comfortable. Ugly and elabo- 
rate pieces of furniture, heavy 
curtains and draperies made 
the rooms solemn and pomp- 
ous. With their bric-a-brac 
and sentimental groups of 
Rogers statuary, parlors often 
resembled cheap china shops 
rather than gracious rooms 
designed for family living. 


The blue laws against serving 
alcoholic beverages on Sunday 
were strictly observed. The 
Germans and the Irish fought 
these laws as unfair. The for- 
mer were especially wrought 
up as they could not bring 
their families to the Biergartens 
on Sundays. Indignation meet- 
ings were held in bars, and 
speakers harangued against 
the rich, who could have liquor 
in their clubs and spacious 
homes while the unhappy poor 
had to get along without it. 


A CONCERT IN CENTRAL PARK. It took ten years of toil and almost ten million 
dollars before the barren and rocky wilderness of more than eight hundred acres between 
59th and 125th streets was transformed into a beautiful pleasure park. Designed by 
Frederick Law Olmstead and Calvert Vaux, and virtually completed at the end of the Civil 
War, Central Park was the common meeting ground of New Yorkers. Here class barriers 
were down, here rich and poor alike were welcome. In the winter it was fashionable to 
skate on the pond, in summer to promenade on the Mall. One could watch the passing of 
the fast trotting horses drawing buggies, broughams, landaus. And if one's means were 
moderate, one could still rent an open dray and drive around the paths. In the warm 
months promenade concerts were given in the pagoda-like music pavilion, to which the 
wealthy came in carriages and listened from the terrace of the nearby Casino, where they 
could enjoy a meal at the same time. Others heard the concerts from benches, from rented 
canopied rustic chairs, or simply by sitting on the grass. On occasion, the attendance at 
these concerts ran into astonishing figures. It was recorded that as many as forty or fifty 
thousand people were listening to the music. When this was the case the horsecar lines, 
which financed the venture, raked in a handsome profit on their musical investment. 



of Adah Isaacs Menkc 
admired by men of al! 
Prodigal in love ai 
friendships, she woi 
hearts of prominent 
among them Alex 
Dumas the elder an 
poet Swinburne. 
Menken" startled Ne> 
when she appeared 
play Ma&ppa on hors< 
clad only in flcsh-c< 
tights. Her scanty co 
was the thrill of th< 
Grandfather was still t 
about it fifty years 


sensation of New York in 1868. When The Black 
Crook, a musical extravaganza which exhibited the 
female form in close-fitting tights, turned into an 
enormous success, girl shows became the vogue. 
Audiences filled Niblo's Theatre where The Black 
Crook was played for sixteen consecutive months 
during 1866 and 1867. The following year the 
English Lydia Thompson brought some British girls 
to New York, who were not only shapely but radi- 
antly blond. And this in a city of brunettes. The 
Lydia Thompson girls showed America that girls 
from the Old Country had everything the American 
girls had, and even a little bit more. Overnight they 

became the toast of the town. The main topic of 
conversation in oyster houses, in clubs, and in offices 
was the dazzling blondes and their curves. The New 
York Times was alarmed. In its opinion the "whole 
blonde business" was a "licentious exhibition" which 
could only lead to the demoralization of the theater. 
"If this style of art is permitted to ride rampant much 
longer, it must eventually make extinct, as it is 
now doing, the old school of artists, and apply the 
torch to the dramatic pile," said the Times. The 
Lydia Thompson troupe were the first real show 
girls; they brought sex to the American stage a 
commodity which has shown its endurance and 
which has remained with us even to the present day. 






woMto jut** v; aw*'. * aatumj* uVt 



The years following the war were uneventful in the life of Theodore Roose- 
velt. He was too young to be aware of the tremendous political issues which 
were in ferment and which were fought out between President and Congress. 

These dark and tragic years brought new prosperity to the North, but 
poverty and humiliation to the South. The Radical Republicans in Congress 
were determined to punish the "conquered provinces." Their Reconstruction 
Acts caused resentment and bitterness. Though the era of reconstruction was 
short not more than a dozen years its evils and hatreds lingered on in the 
South for decades to come. 

On no man did the weight of Lincoln's passing fall more heavily than on 
Andrew Johnson, the Tennessee Democrat who had remained loyal to the 
Union and had been selected as the President's running mate in 1864. Johnson 
pledged to continue Lincoln's policies, to bind up the nation's wounds without 
hatred or vindictiveness. But the Radical Republicans, a strong and influential 
group within the Republican party, wanted to use the South's defeat as a 
political weapon; they wanted Republican dominance over the Democrats. 
Headed by Thaddeus Stevens, they had been hostile to Lincoln; and when 
Lincoln died, they hoped that Johnson would more easily be bent to their will. 

But Andrew Johnson's background was not that of a man who would readily 
yield to pressure. He was born in poverty, and his formal education was negli- 
gible. At an early age he moved from North Carolina to Tennessee, where he 
earned his living as a tailor. Fond of political debates, he sided with the 
Southern poor whites. He reflected their bitterness at the slaveholding aristoc- 
racy and at the Whig organization through which this class exercised political 
control. A driving ambition enabled him to compensate for his lack of formal 
schooling; while plying his trade, a hired man read to him for fifty cents a day. 
Later, when he married, his wife taught him to read. 

It was inevitable that Johnson should have been drawn into politics, and it 
was not long before he became one of the most powerful Democrats in his state. 
The outbreak of the war found him in the Senate of the United States. Al- 
though in 1860 he supported Breckinridge, the secession candidate, he could 
not countenance the breaking up of the Union. He was now squarely behind 
Lincoln. He said: "I voted against him; I spoke against him; I spent my money 
to defeat him. But I still love my country; I love the Constitution; I intend to 
insist on its guarantees. There and there alone I intend to plant myself, with 
the confident hope and belief that if the Union remains together, in less than 
four years the now triumphant party will be overthrown." In four years 61 


the same Andrew Johnson became Abraham Lincoln's Vice-President. 

His program of reconstruction differed little from that of his predecessor. It 
was a liberal plan aimed at bringing the Southern states back into the family 
quickly and without penalties. It called for appointment of a provisional gov- 
ernor in each of the seceded states, a governor with power to call a constitu- 
tional convention. Once the delegates to these conventions had agreed to 
abolish slavery and invalidate their ordinances of secession, they were to be 
free to organize their states within the provisions of the federal Constitution. 
Johnson's plan specifically gave the states the privilege of deciding who could 
vote and who could not, although he added to this his recommendation that 
Negroes who were able to read and write or who owned property should be 
enfranchised along with whites. 

These magnanimous terms, gratefully received in the South, aroused the 
fury of the Radical Republicans. For many Radicals, the first and foremost 
objective was to ensure Republican supremacy by giving the Negroes the 
ballot and keeping the "disloyal" Southern Democrats from the polls. 

The Radicals argued: "When the government decided that the Negro was 
fit to carry a gun to shoot rebels down, it thereby pledged itself irrevocably to 
give him the ballot to vote rebels down." For many rational and humanitarian 
Northerners the idea of Negro suffrage seemed inseparable from emancipation. 
The powerful Union League Club of New York, which had been instrumental in 
helping runaway slaves to find freedom before the war, now devoted itself to 
the suffrage cause, sending organizers among the Southern Negroes to kindle 
their hatred of their former masters and to stiffen their determination to win 
equal rights. The Freedmen's Bureau, with offices throughout the South, 
tended to work toward the same end as it carried out its prescribed function 
of aiding the Negroes to adapt themselves to freedom. 

The South was alarmed by the demand for Negro suffrage. For more than 
two centuries the Negro had been a chattel, with a legal status scarcely above 
that of livestock. To accept him as a political equal with the implication of 
social equality as well was a frightening thought. Southerners knew that the 
great majority of Negroes were not yet ready for the rights of citizenship. As 
slaves, most of them had been kept in a state of unlettered ignorance and were 
scarcely better equipped to vote intelligently than their forefathers who were 
brought to America from the jungles of Africa. 

Taking full advantage of President Johnson's proposals, most of the former 
Confederate states had organized under the terms of his plan by the end of 
1865, sending to Washington their representatives. 

In Congress the leader of Johnson's Radical opposition was Thaddeus 
Stevens, one of the most enigmatic characters in American history. Lame from 
birth, he was a man of great brilliance and bitterness. He was born in poverty 
in Vermont, and early formed a deep hatred for aristocracy in all forms, but 
particularly in the form of the Southern slaveholders. To him the Civil War 
was an opportunity for crushing the hated class. An inveterate gambler, Stevens 
62 made and lost two fortunes in the iron industry. He lived with a mulatto house- 

keeper and never denied reports that she was his mistress. When the war closed, 
he was seventy-three years old and so infirm that he often attended sessions of 
Congress racked with pain. He appeared to have voluminous black hair, but 
once when an abolitionist woman asked for a lock of it, he smilingly removed 
his wig and handed it to her. He kept his sardonic humor until the last. When, 
on his deathbed, a friend expressed concern over his appearance, Stevens coined 
the bon mot: "It is not my appearance but my disappearance that troubles me." 

With his own reconstruction plan well along toward fulfillment, Johnson 
reported his progress to Congress late in 1865. His message, ably written by 
George Bancroft, the historian, presented the doctrine that the Confederate 
states had never ceased to exist as states but had been in a condition of legal 
suspension from which they should now be restored as quickly as possible. This 
argument ran headlong into Stevens' contention that the Confederate states 
had lost their legal status by seceding and must be considered for the present 
as conquered provinces without the protection of the federal Constitution a 
contention designed to answer Johnson's claim that he could not enforce Negro 
suffrage because the Constitution left voting questions up to the states. Speaking 
in the House of Representatives, Stevens stated frankly: "I think there would 
always be enough Union men in the South, aided by the blacks, to divide the 
representation and thus continue Republican ascendancy." 

The Radicals created a joint House-Senate Committee on Reconstruction 
to do away with Johnson's plan and replace it with their own. At first it looked 
as though the President might be able to stem the tide of the opposition, for 
when he vetoed a bill to extend and expand the powers of the Freedmen's 
Bureau, he was sustained by a small margin in the Senate. But his victory was 
short-lived. His subsequent veto of the Civil Rights Bill, which sought to 
guarantee equal privileges for Negroes, was not sustained. From then on, the 
Radicals were in the driver's seat. 

As the mid-term elections of 1868 were approaching, Johnson set out on a 
speaking tour in an effort to convince the country of the soundness of his 
policies. The trip was a failure. The election repudiated Johnson; it gave the 
Radicals the vote; they had comfortable majorities in both houses of Congress. 

Stevens now was able to force through Congress a new reconstruction plan. 
Five military districts were set up in the South, each one placed under 
an Army general, and provision made for constitutional conventions to be con- 
ducted under Northern auspices. All Negroes were given the right to vote, but 
the vote was to be withheld from those whites who had been disloyal to the 
Union. Federal troops would not be withdrawn from any state until its con- 
stitution had been approved by Congress and until the Fourteenth Amendment 
forbidding the abridgment of citizenship privileges had been ratified by <he 
state. And even after these conditions had been met, the state could be repre- 
sented in Congress only by such representatives as would swear that they had 
never voluntarily given aid to the Confederate cause. These were harsh terms. 
When a Republican told Thaddeus Stevens that he was conscience-stricken 
over such measures, Stevens would have no such nonsense. He replied: 63 

"Conscience! Tell your conscience to go to the devil, and follow the party line." 

The Radicals* reconstruction program was passed over Johnson's veto, as 
was the Tenure of Office Act, which tried to tie the President's hands by mak- 
ing it a criminal offense for him to remove without Senate approval any civil 
officeholder whom he had appointed. 

It was the Tenure of Office Act which became the focal point for the 
increasingly strong Radical demand for Johnson's impeachment. When John- 
son dismissed Edwin Stanton, the Secretary of War and a man who v^orked 
closely with the Radicals, Thaddeus Stevens offered the resolution to impeach 
the President. Eleven counts were drawn up against Johnson, nine of them 
dealing with the Stanton removal, which, it was charged, violated the Tenure 
of Office Act. The trial that followed was a political spectacle of first magni- 
tude, with bribes offered and votes canvassed as though in a party caucus. And 
when it was over, Johnson had escaped impeachment by a single vote. 

To keep the freedmen from following the political leadership of their former 
masters, the Radicals used all kinds of methods to wean the Negroes away 
from them. Representatives of the Union League promised them "forty acres 
and a mule." Others offered even more. As the time arrived to register them 
as voters, the vast majority of former slaves had been convinced that their 
dreams for a better life could be realized only through the Republican party. 

The constitutional conventions in the South were dominated by Negroes 
(who comprised a majority of the voters in five of the ten states), by "carpet- 
baggers" and "scalawags." ("Carpetbaggers" was a nickname for Northerners 
who came to the South in search of political fortunes, with their entire possessions 
in their carpetbags; "scalawags" was a hated term describing the Southern 
whites who allied themselves with the Negroes.) They quickly assumed the po- 
sitions of leadership. When the state constitutions prepared by these conven- 
tions were submitted to the voters, many of the whites stayed away from the 
polls. But the Radicals drew the Negroes in such overwhelming numbers to 
the ballot box that they were able to get the majority ratification. The seven 
Southern states which were readmitted to the Union before the 1868 presi- 
dential election were all in the Republican column. 

In some instances the new constitutions were well-drawn documents, more 
democratic than the on& before the war. But their potentialities were largely 
dissipated by the corrupt and incompetent officials who were placed in office 
by the first elections. The highest elective posts went to carpetbaggers, and the 
lesser offices were distributed among scalawags and Negroes who were far 
from the best representatives of the freedmen. The new officialdom, moreover, 
was in a unique position to pursue policies of political irresponsibility, for 
most of them were men of little property and even less education. In Louisiana, 
for example, only ten of the new members of the legislature were taxpayers, 
and in Georgia the total amount of taxes paid by all representatives in both 
houses of the legislature amounted to but $100. 

Under these circumstances, it was natural enough that the new governments 
64 tended toward confiscatory legislation and corrupt administration, producing 

an orgy of misgovernment. Tax rates rose steeply, at the very time when prop- 
erty owners were trying desperately to get back on their feet. 

In such an atmosphere the presidential election of 1868 was held. Leading 
Republican politicians had decided on General Grant, while the Democrats 
named Horatio Seymour, the former governor of New York. That Grant 
would win the election was never in doubt. The electorate cared little that he 
knew nothing about public affairs, that he had only voted once in his life, that 
he was a poor speaker and not much of a thinker. And the people cared less 
that the Democratic candidate had all the qualifications for the high office, 
that Seymour was a profound student of politics, a polished orator, and an ex- 
perienced administrator. They wanted Grant and no arguments. 

The main issue of the campaign was reconstruction. The Republicans took 
a strong stand for the Reconstruction Acts, while the Democrats maintained 
that their opponents had "subjected 10 states, in the time of profound peace, 
to military despotism and Negro supremacy." On the question of Negro suf- 
frage the Republican platform presented two faces, insisting on suffrage in the 
South but stating that in tue North it was a matter for each state to decide in- 
dividually. A campaign jingle reflected the feelings of many Southerners: 

To every Southern river shall Negro suffrage come, 

But not to fair New England, for that's too close to home. 

As expected, General Grant won the election. 

The harsh reconstruction program, continued under Grant's term, produced 
organized resistance in the South. The Ku Klux Klan at first a harmless 
organization with no particular program became an instrument in the hand 
of Southerners who desired to discipline the Negroes and the carpetbaggers. 
By 1 869 atrocities against Negroes became frequent. Murders, whippings, and 
tortures were the order of the day, with gangs of white-robed Klansmen rid- 
ing the countryside at night to terrorize those whom they felt to be responsible 
for the South's degradation. In the fall of 1869 the more responsible leaders of 
the Klan and the several similar organizations that had sprung up attempted 
to disband the lawless elements, but their efforts were unsuccessful. 

The Radical reconstruction policies fomented vigorous resistance in the 
South. The whites, determined to end military control of their government, 
began to organize themselves to best political advantage and to place increas- 
ing emphasis on nonviolent tactics to restore home rule. In state after state the 
conservatives, operating through the Democratic party, regained control of 
the government, driving the carpetbaggers and scalawags into retirement. 
Their efforts were greatly aided by the split in the Republican ranks and by 
the fact that Northern leniency became greater as the Civil War hatreds were 
gradually soothed by time. 

When Theodore Roosevelt grew up, he learned what disastrous results the 
Radicals had reaped for the Republican party. Instead of securing the South- 
ern and Negro vote, they had created a "Solid South," the main Democratic 
bastion for generations to come. 65 

rn< o<u*rr P * a \y : mfr wars*: 



President Johnson, in his attempt to 
continue Lincoln's magnanimous 
policies toward the South, incurred 
the enmity of the Radical Republi- 
cans, who advocated severe measures 
against the "conquered provinces." 
The fateful struggle between the 
President and Congress reached a 
peak in the mid-term election of 
1866. Johnson set out from Wash? 
ington in a "swing around the 
circle," traveling as far as Chicago, 
trying to convince the electorate of 
the soundness of his policies. The 
Radicals organized demonstrations 
against him, hecklers roused his ire 
and goaded him into intemperate 
utterances; newspapers fought him, 
charging him with drunkenness, car- 
toonists ridiculed him mercilessly, as 
the artist Thomas Nast has done in 
this cartoon. Johnson's trip ended 
in dismal failure; the election upheld 
the Radicals, who carried both 
houses of Congress by great major- 
ities. They now were given the man- 
date to carry out their harsh recon- 
struction policies in the South. 


In 1867 the Radical Republicans passed three Re- 
construction Acts which divided the area of the ten 
Southern states (Tennessee had already ratified the 
Fourteenth Amendment and was restored to its full 
privileges) into five military districts, with a major 

general in command of each district. The contempo- 
rary drawing from Harper's Weekly shows General 
Daniel E. Sickles, General John Pope, General 
George H. Thomas, General U. S. Grant, Brevet 
Major General John M. Schofield, General Philip 
Sheridan, and Brevet Major General E. O. C. Ord. 

construction Acts of 1867 
gave the vote to the former 
slaves. They now had equal 
rights with the whites. They 
flocked to the registration 
offices, where officials of the 
military governments read 
to them their new privileges. 
Southerners were enraged 
and humiliated. While the 
former slaves were given the 
suffrage, only those whites 
who were willing to swear 
that they had not voluntar- 
ily joined the Confederate 
Army were allowed to vote. 


THE FIRST VOTE. In the state elections of 1867 
the Negroes voted for the first time, outnumbering 
the whites. The political campaign of the Radical 
Republicans made it certain that the new voters 
would cast their ballots for the Republican candi- 
dates. The freedmen listened to inflammatory speeches 
about their former masters, listened to promises of 
"forty acres and a mule." Not yet mature enough to 
exercise their political rights, the former slaves voted 

as they were told. They voted for carpetbaggers 
(Northern men who came to the South to pursue 
political careers, most of their possessions in their 
carpetbags); they voted for "scalawags'* (Southern 
whites who allied themselves with the Republicans); 
they voted for illiterate Negroes; they voted for men 
who promised them the stars from heaven. The re- 
sults of the elections were corrupt governments, enor- 
mous state debts, and a hostile white population. 



The composite photograph shows the Radical Republican members of the South Carolina 
Legislature in 1868. That unhappy state, with a legislature made up largely of Negroes un- 
able to read or write, found itself milked dry by graft and extravagance. School funds were 
stolen; businesses had to make direct payments to public officials for permits and franchises; 
payrolls were padded. In the State House barroom the average daily consumption for a legis- 
lator was a gallon of liquor; some lawmakers staggered into the chamber, wholly drunk. 



The Ku Klux Klan, at first a harmless organization, 
turned into a vicious instrument in the hands of hood- 
lums who acquired control of many of the Klan's 
local branches. Atrocities against Negroes, murders, 
whippings, and tortures became the order of the day. 


The assassination of G. W. Ash- 
burn in Columbus, Georgia, on 
March 31, 1868, as it seemed to 
the artist of Frank Leslie's Illus- 
trated Newspaper. This and other 
vile, debasing, and brutal mis- 
deeds kept the Negroes and their 
allies in constant fear. The attor- 
ney who was later to defend the 
Klan declared that their outrages 
shocked humanity. In 1868, ac- 
cording to a Southern newspaper, 
the Klan was being formed for 
action "wherever the insolent 
negro, the malignant white traitor 
to his race, and the infamous 
squatter" were plotting to make 
the South "utterly unfit for the 
residence of the decent white man." 

White-robed Klansmen rode the countryside at 
night to terrorize those whom they believed to be 
responsible for the South's degradation. By 1869 the 
Klan had absorbed "all the horse thieves, cutthroats, 
bushwhackers and outlaws of every description" 
and degenerated into a mob of lawless rioters. 


THE IMPEACHMENT COMMITTEE, an official group portrait taken by Mathew B. 
Brady. Seated, from left to right: Benjamin F. Butler, Thaddeus Stevens, Thomas Williams, 
and John A. Bingham. Standing: James F. Wilson, George S. Boutwell, and John A. Logan. 



The Radical Republicans, angered by President 
Johnson's mild reconstruction policy and outraged 
about his independent attitude, passed the Tenure 
of Office Act, which forbade the President to issue 
military orders, to remove civil officeholders of the 
government, or dismiss high military officers without 
the consent of the Senate. The prime purpose of the 
act was to keep a check on Johnson and to retain 


Stevens went before the House of Representatives to 
propose the impeachment of President Johnson. 

THE IMPEACHMENT COURT, constituted by 
the Senate under Chief Justice Chase, deliberated for 
weeks. It failed to impeach Johnson by a single vote. 

Edwin Stan ton, the Secretary of War, from office without consulting the Senate, the hostile 
group of Radical Republicans instituted impeachment proceedings against Johnson. 

Edwin Stanton, the Secretary of War and a close 
friend of the Radicals. 

When the President, challenging the constitution- 
ality of the Act, dismissed Stanton, the Radicals 
charged him with "high crimes and misdemeanors" 
and voted to impeach him. Nine of the eleven charges 
against Johnson were based on the Tenure of Office 
Act. The trial lasted from the middle of March till 

the middle of May 1868, with the country watching 
in a high state of excitement. To impeach the Presi- 
dent the Radicals needed a two-thirds vote. But their 
effort failed. In the decisive ballot seven Republican 
senators sided with the Democrats. Thus, by a 
single vote, the presidential office as created under the 
Constitution* escaped destruction. Thaddeus Stevens 
muttered angrily: "The country is going to the devil." 


THEODORE'S DIARY, about the time of Johnson's impeachment. The entry dated 
"Sunday, Munday and Tuesday" is particularly revealing. "As I lost My book I cannot 
remember what I have done, except the getting of my birds nests which I will relate. The 
robins and catbirds nest I pushed from limbs with sticks. We knocked down two pair of 
birds nests but did not take them. All of a sudden we saw high in the barn and with a wasps 
nest near it a swallows nest. We got it with a ladder. Nothing now happened till the 4th of 
September." Here we have Theodore Roosevelt, the meticulous reporter, the lover of nature. 
Almost every day his entries contain some reference to natural history, his lifelong interest. 
The 4th of September was most exciting. "To day I was called in from breakfast to a room. 
When I went in there what was my surprise to see on wall, curtains and floor about fourty 
swallows . . . and about 75 [were] in the house. I caught most of them. The others got out." 


TROUBLED BY ASTHMA an entry in Theodore Roosevelt's first childhood diary, 
dated Monday, August 10, 1868. With characteristic poor spelling Theodore confides: "I 
had an attack of the Asmcr but I did not go to New York." But regardless of his asthma 
attacks, Teedie exercised, swam, and rode. There are entries in the diary which foretell the 
vigorous life to which Theodore adhered as a grown man. "Had a ride of six miles before 
breakfast. I will always have a ride of six miles before breakfast now," he wrote on August 
20. Whether he played store and "baby," whether he went to church, whether he "read, 
wrote or drew," whether he "did nothing," everything was put on paper with systematic 
care. And while the nation wrestled with the grave problem of reconstruction, while Congress 
started impeachment proceedings against the President, the Roosevelt children spent an idyllic 
summer at Barrytown, unaware of the momentous political decisions which faced the country. 



General Ulysses S. Grant, the hero of the Civil War, became President in 1868. The country 
looked forward to good times and a decent administration. It attained neither. Under Grant's 
leadership public morality sank to a new low. Corruption and graft flourished. Though 
personally honest, the President could not check the misdeeds of his associates. Politicians 
and speculators abused his trusting nature. Gradually, a disillusioned electorate realized 
that a successful military man does not necessarily have the makings of a good President. 




It was a grand tour that Theodore Roosevelt's father mapped out for his 
family. They were to go to Europe so the children could see and learn at first 
hand about the Old World. 

The Roosevelts set out from New York on May 12, 1869; nine days later 
they were in Liverpool, where Uncle Jimmy and Uncle Irving the brother 
and half brother of Mrs. Roosevelt lived in voluntary exile. They had a 
lovely reunion, and Theodore visited his cousins' school. The only trouble was: 
"We had a nice time but met Jeff Davises son and some sharp words ensued." 
From Liverpool the six Roosevelts proceeded to the Lake District, then to 
Edinburgh, and from there to western Scotland. From Glasgow they traveled 
via York, Warwick, Oxford to London, where they stayed for three weeks. 

Leaving England for Holland, they journeyed to Antwerp, The Hague, and 
Amsterdam, then to Germany Frankfort, Heidelberg, and Baden and from 
there to Strasbourg and to Basel, in Switzerland. A thorough tourist trip of 
Switzerland followed, taking in the Jura Mountains, Bern, Lausanne, Montreux, 
Geneva, Chamonix, the Mont Blanc. Zermatt, Andermatt, Lucerne, Zurich 
one gets tired listing the names of the places. The Roosevelts were sight-seers 
of the first order. 

Though there was plenty to watch and plenty to do, Teedie was not 
too happy. His diary reveals that "I have been homesick all the nights at 
Luzerne." And in France he "cried for homesickness and a wish to get out of 
the land where friends (or as I think them enemies) who cannot speak 
the language are forced on me." 

After Switzerland came Italy: Stresa, Lugano, Milan, Venice. Then Austria: 
Trieste, Vienna, Ischl, Salzburg. Once more Germany: Munich, Nurnberg, 
Dresden, Berlin, Cologne, then through Belgium to Paris. There they stayed 
put for a full month, enjoying life in the French capital. But by the end 
of November they were on the way again: Dijon, Marseilles, the French and 
Italian Rivieras, and through Genoa and Pisa to Rome. Christmas was spent in 
Rome, then on to Naples and Sorrento, where they celebrated the New Year. 

Back to Rome for six weeks of sight-seeing, then via Florence, Bologna, 
Turin, to Paris. Six weeks there, a week in London, and a visit to Liverpool to 
say farewell to the Bullochs rounded out the trip. On May 14 they embarked 
on the Russia, and sailed home. 

Theodore closes his diary on an exultant pitch: "This morning we saw land 
of America and, swiftly coming on, passed Sandy Hook and went in to the 
bay. New York!!! Hip! Hurrah!" 77 


The Roosevelts left New York on May 12, 1869, and 
after touring England, Holland, Switzerland, Italy, 
and France, they returned home on May 25, 1870. 
During the trip Theodore recorded his experiences 
with methodical exactness. On the voyage to Europe 
he noted that he was seasick and that he was home- 
sick. He described the fish and birds he saw, re- 



marked about the books he read. When the boat 
reached its destination the whole ship was in an up- 
roar except Teedie, who "read, entirely oblivious to 
what was going on." In a letter from Europe his 
mother confided to her sister that she thought Teedie 
was a "strange child! I am going to try to wake him 
up to observe what goes on and make him observe." 


The waxworks Theodore speaks about in his diary 
are Mme. Tussaud's; the hard-to-spell name was 
conveniently left out. He also records the happy time 
in London's Hyde Park, his visit to the British 
Museum and "the Westnubster abby." In London, 
Teedie suffered severe asthma attacks, and these at- 
tacks continued almost throughout the entire jour- 


ney. There are entries in the diary like "I was verry 
sick last night," or "I had a miserable night," or "I 
was rubbed so hard on the chest this morning that 
the blood came out." Only at a high altitude did he 
feel better. In Switzerland he went for long walks, 
sometimes thirteen, sometimes nineteen and some- 
times even twenty miles a day to build up his body. 



Edith Kermit Carow, the seven-year-old daughter 
of Charles and Gertrude Carow, was an early com- 
panion of the Roosevelt children. She lived next 
door to Grandfather Roosevelt on Fourteenth Street, 
and her parents were family friends. Theodore was 
fond of her, though it was his sister Corinne who be- 
came Edith's "churn." While the Roosevelts so- 
journed in Paris, Theodore was shown a portrait of 
Edith, and the face of the little girl "stired up in me 
homesickness and longings for the past which will 
come again never, alack never." Still, Edith was not 
the only young lady in his life. A few months later 
in Rome, after the birthday party for his brother 
Elliott, Theodore confided in his diary: "We then 
danced and when we had forfeits I was suddenly 
surprised by being kissed by Ellicse Van Schaick as 
the boy she loved best in the room." Yet it was Edith 
Carow whom he married after his first wife's death. 


Eleven-year-old Teedie Roosevelt at the time of the 
European trip. In his diary he noted all the interest- 
ing things he saw, all the places he visited. He would 
have enjoyed the trip more if he had suffered less from 
recurrent asthma attacks. His elder sister, Bamie, 
wrote to her aunt: "Poor little Tedie is sick again with 
the asthma it was coming on all day yesterday, but in 
the evening he seemed a little better so Father went out 
before his return, however, Tedie had a very bad 
attack. Mother and I were very much worried about 
the poor little fellow and at last Mother gave him a 
strong cup of coffee, which failed as he could not 
sleep but sat in the parlor to have stories of when 
Mother was a little girl told him." The boy loved it. 



Theodore, written in Paris 
on November 22, 1869, with 
the wistful entry about Edith 
Carow. "I went for Mama 
at her russian bath and 
Conie and I while waiting 
for mama looked at some 
cats and I showed her my 
bathroom. As it rained I 
did not go out untill the 
afternoon when I and Conie 
went out alone. In the eve- 
ning mama showed me the 
portrait of Eidieth Carow 
and her face stired up in me 
homesickness and longings 
for the past which will come 
again never, alack never." 



The hotel suites in which the family stayed whether in London, Paris or Venice are care- 
fully drawn (see below). The times the "big people" went out that is, father, mother, and 
his elder sister, Ramie while Theodore, his brother Elliott, his sister Corinne "the little 
people" were left behind are recorded in minute detail. The entries reveal a methodical, 
pedantic, orderly mind. 

In Paris the young diarist describes how "We annoyed (not really) the chambermaids 
and waiters and were chased by them." In Trieste: "I am now on the castle and have written 
my name on the pole there." In San Remo a bit of juvenile jingoism when "We 3" tossed 
food to a large group of peasant children. "We made the crowds that we gave the cakes to 
give three cheers for the U.S.A. before we gave them cakes." In Rome: "We saw the Pope 
and we walked along and he extended his hand to me and I kissed it!! hem!! hem!!" 

His keen interest in nature lore found new outlets in Europe, where he visited every 
natural-history museum he could find, while art exhibits were not to his taste. "If Raphel," 
he wrote, "had only painted landscapes instead of church things!" 

Often a note of unconscious humor found its way into the diary. In Italy the Roosevelts 
visited "St. John the Baptists chapel where no woman was allowed to enter because 
Herrodeus had had his head cut off"; in France, "We went to Pere la Chais where we saw 
severel famous persons interred." Less often there is a note of romantic and world-weary 
introspection, as when he is told that his Uncle Weir, his father's brother, had died. "It is 
the third relation that has died in my short life. What will come?" Such morose sentiments 
might have seemed startling in a child so young, had it not been obvious that he was merely 
exercising a flair for the dramatic, an art in which he became quite proficient as time passed. 



The countries that the Roosevelts visited received ratings by Theodore. "England not nice 
at all," said an entry, while "Scotland on the whole verry nice." The four days in "Roland" 
with one 7 and Switzerland must have been the high points of the journey; they were 
"splendid." For the ten-year-old boy the European countries were either "decent," "nice," 
"splendid," or "not nice at all." His opinions were clear and firm he had no doubt about 
them. In another section of his diary he made careful notation of the promises which were 
given him on the trip and which had to be fulfilled when the family returned to America. 
He recorded these promises with great care, so they would not be forgotten. Thus, when 
Papa said Theodore would get "a verry good bow and arrow," or "a good big geogography," 
here they were noted in the diary. Similarly, Mama's promise "if possible a room for myself" 
and Papa's word about letting him know "the names of my forefathers" were put on paper; 
there could be no argument about the matter later. Theodore would not take any chances. 



As New York grew too fast, neither housing accom- 
modations nor school facilities could keep pace with 
the population increase. School classes like the above 
Grammar School No. 3, photographed in 1873, were 
large. In 1870 there were 287 schools in the city, with 

3,215 teachers (over 3,000 of them women), who 
taught 251,545 pupils. A contemporary chronicler 
noted that the best students were the Jews, followed 
by the Germans, "whilst the Irish, with different 
traits, have produced from these schools bright speci- 
mens of what, with education, they may become." 





The forces which Theodore Roosevelt had to master during his presidential 
years were forged while he was in his short pants, knowing little and caring 
nothing about them. 

The third quarter of the nineteenth century brought a tremendous acceler- 
ation to the industrial revolution throughout the Western world, and nowhere 
did the revolution move more speedily than in the United States. 

Statistics cannot fully convey the greatest economic boom the country had 
ever seen, but they indicate the speed with which industrial expansion drove 
the nation forward. In 1865 only 1.5 billion dollars were invested in American 
manufacturing. By 1878 the figure had reached 3 billions. In 1859 there were 
140,000 manufacturing plants in the country. Ten years later there were 
252,000. Steel production jumped from about 15,000 tons in 1865 to more 
than 600,000 tons in 1876, while in the eight years following the war the na- 
tion's total railroad mileage increased 100 per cent. 

Of all the fabulous industrial success stories during the years following 
Appomattox, none were more remarkable than the growth of two relatively 
new products: steel and oil. The steel age had been born in England in 1856 
through the genius of Henry Bessemer, but it did not get started in America 
until just after the war. Thereafter, the development of the new product was 
so fast that steel became as cheap as cast iron. During the early years of the 
industry, most of the output went into train rails, where its durability made it 
far superior to iron. If for no other reason than this, steel's influence on Ameri- 
can expansion was predominant, since the huge crops of the Middle West and 
the manufactured goods of the Mississippi Valley could never have been car- 
ried without it. 

Oil, like steel, was an industry that grew up almost overnight. Before the 
war, crude oil had been used on a small scale as a lubricant, and on a some- 
what larger scale as a "cure-all" medicine to be used either externally or inter- 
nally for almost any ailment. The boom came, however, with the discovery 
that a cheap refining process could make the product into a practical source 
of illumination. 

In addition to steel and oil, meat packing emerged as a major business in 
this postwar period, aided by the growth of cattle ranching, and improvements 
in rail transportation and refrigeration. The milling industry, superseding the 
old-fashioned gristmill, the manufacture of ready-made clothing in place of 
homemade garments yielded quick riches. 85 

The standardization of products was one major characteristic of the indus- 
trial boom; another was the rapid expansion of industries in the Middle 
West, an area which had been almost entirely agricultural a decade earlier. 
Besides meat packing and milling, foundries sprang up in Iowa and Illinois; 
breweries in St. Louis and Milwaukee; a thriving watch industry in Elgin, 
Illinois; stockyards, farm machinery and railroad equipment production 
boomed in Chicago. 

In the exciting drama of taming the Wild West the railroads played a major 
role. The westward advancement of the frontier settlements during the ten 
years following Lincoln's death was truly astonishing. Three wartime measures 
the Homestead Act, the Morrill Land-Grant Act, and a bill giving huge 
tracts to the Union Pacific had thrown extensive public lands open to settle- 
ment. Between 1871 and 1876 nearly 40,000 homesteads passed into the pos- 
session of settlers. Under the Morrill Act, each state in the Union received 
30,000 acres per congressman to sell or rent for endowing colleges of agricul- 
ture and mechanics. The railroads Union Pacific, Santa Fe, and Southern 
Pacific particularly were given 20-mile land grants on each side of their 
tracks in territorial areas, and 10-mile grants in the states. So great was the 
land distribution that by 1871, when the last of the railroad grants was made, 
the government had given away nearly 130,000,000 acres an area three 
times the size of New England. 

The most dramatic and in many respects ignominious chapter in the 
story of the West was the conflict between the new settlers and the Indians. 
When the Civil War ended, there were about 300,000 "untamed" Indians, of 
whom the most hostile were the ones living on the Great Plains. Between 
1865 and 1870, as the whites moved into the Indian preserves, there was al- 
most constant fighting, and even after that period it continued sporadically 
for a number of years. The universal attitude on the frontier was cold-blooded 
and uncompromising: the only good Indian was a dead one an attitude that 
led to a great deal of cruelty on both sides. 

At the same time that the Indians were being driven back, the buffalo 
one of the country's great natural resources was being systematically annihil- 
ated. In the 1860s there were probably about 15,000,000 of these creatures in 
the West, roaming the plains in great herds. The building of the railroads made 
these herds accessible, and the demand for buffalo robes and buffalo meat 
made hunting them profitable, although much of the slaughter was for 
"sport." Between 1871 and 1874 about 3,700,000 animals were killed in the 
southwestern herd alone, and the buffalo species was close to extinction. 

In the new Middle Western states the two great industries were farming and 
stock raising. The cattle business contributed stirring chapters in the Ameri- 
can legend, and the cowboys who rode the range were in many respects the 
most colorful and unique characters the nation ever produced. Their lives 
were rugged, their outlook reckless, and their day-to-day activities were attuned 
to conflicts with sheep ranchers, Indians, cattle rustlers, and the advancing 
86 homesteaders, who fenced off more and more of the best grazing land. It was 

inevitable that this land should move increasingly into the domain of the 
farmer, who could use it far more fully and economically than the cattleman. 

Farther west, beyond the plains, mining was the great attraction for settlers. 
The 1849 gold rush to the Pacific coast was followed by the development of 
the Comstock Lode about 1860 and the Montana gold rush immediately after 
the war. These sporadic events determined the pattern of settlement in the 
Southwest, but they did not make for an orderly growth of the region. Over- 
optimism, hard drinking, and vice of every variety were the characteristics of 
mining-town life, and at their worst these communities made eastern fleshpots 
seem very mild indeed. 

One notable exception to this pattern was the state of Utah, which had 
been settled in the 1850s by the persecuted Mormons under Brigham Young. 
By 1866 Utah had about 120,000 inhabitants, most of them farmers, and was 
operating under a theocratic government with a remarkable economic system 
based on barter and tightly controlled by Young himself. This worked as long 
as Utah could remain Mormon and self-sufficient, but when the Union Pacific 
brought in swarms of nev\ traders and settlers its doom was sealed. Culturally, 
Utah scored some remarkable accomplishments, and economically it went far 
toward abolishing poverty; but it was hamstrung by Young's ironclad admin- 
istrative system and by the institution of polygamy, which led to internal 

Though the material progress to be seen in the country was breath-taking, 
it was only part of the story. At the same time that America was striding for- 
ward to new economic and geographic frontiers, it was acquiring a new cul- 
tural breadth, a new awakening of intellectual national consciousness. 

Before the war intellectual pursuits were virtually a monopoly of the 
eastern seaboard, and particularly of New England; visitors from abroad 
found the rest of the country little more than a cultural desert. But after the 
war all this was changed. At Ann Arbor, Michigan, there grew up one of the 
country's most progressive universities; from the Middle West came such 
intellectual stimulants as Mark Twain and William Dean Howells; in the Far 
West the cultural awakening produced Bret Harte, Joaquin Miller, and others. 

True, England's Victorian writers continued to set the literary tone. Charles 
Dickens was still the idol of most culture-conscious Americans; and when he 
visited this country two years after the war he grossed $140,000 in one tour 
of the eastern states alone. But native American writers found that they, for 
the first time, had an audience too. Men like Mark Twain and Bret Harte, 
who could not have hoped to enjoy wide popularity before the war, were able 
to capitalize successfully on the new interest in lectures and the rapid increase 
in readership of current periodicals. 

Mark Twain's emergence was an excellent illustration of the thoroughness 
of the break between prewar and postwar cultural attitudes in America. With 
few exceptions, the intellectual giants of the ante-bellum years men like 
Ralph Waldo Emerson, James Russell Lowell, and Oliver Wendell Holmes 
were steeped in cultural tradition and formal education. But Mark Twain 87 

conformed to none of the established rules. He came originally from Missouri; 
his schooling was on river boats and in printing shops rather than in academic 
halls; his interests ran to plebeian and colorful subject matter rather than to 
the more refined and elegant subjects that had found the best audiences in 
the past. Because his work seemed vulgar to many who were influenced by 
the fastidious tastes of the period, the East was slow to recognize it; but by 
1880, even Brahmin Boston was reading and enjoying him. 

Mark Twain's first real popular recognition came as a lecturer, and it was 
in this capacity that many writers of the period found new and eager 
followers. The lecture bureau was, in fact, one of the great leavening influ- 
ences in postwar America's cultural development, an admirable medium for 
disseminating intellectual stimulation. 

It was a British-reared journalist, James Redpath, who must be given par- 
ticular credit for the great growth of interest in lectures, for it was he who put 
lecturing on a sound, businesslike basis by establishing a central booking office 
in New York City and routing speakers about the countryside for 10 per cent 
of their fees. Under the guidance of Redpath and the others who hastened 
into the business, a steady stream of lecturers circulated through the nation, 
many of them obtaining fees that seem substantial even by today's standards. 
Henry Ward Beecher received as much as $1,000 for a single evening; the car- 
toonist Thomas Nast made $40,000 in a seven-month tour of the East. Soon 
afterward, the Chatauqua movement founded in 1874 as a training program 
for Sunday-school teachers blossomed into a noncommercial lecture center, 
sending earnest speakers through the nation, delivering instructive talks in 
thousands of cities and hamlets. 

The revitalized American culture was not reflected in literature alone. Higher 
education underwent radical changes. The room for progress in this field was 
almost unlimited at the close of the war, for the nation's colleges were without 
exception in a deplorable state. Harvard, while perhaps the best of them, was 
poorly equipped, had virtually no funds for expansion, and offered an ill- 
organized, back ward- looking curriculum that was scarcely above the level of a 
good high-school education today. Yale was even worse a quasitheological 
institution in which free academic inquiry was effectively squelched by a small 
but dominant group of Congregational clergymen. In almost every college the 
teaching was uninspired, consisting mostly of dull recitations in which the pupil 
was taught to memorize and imitate rather than to think for himself. 

President Charles Eliot enlarged the Harvard curriculum; he set up a system 
of "electives," which freed students from the stifling effects of being limited to 
a rigid and prescribed course; he upped entrance requirements so that Harvard 
was no longer open to anyone whose only assets were money and social position; 
he established a program of graduate study in liberal arts; and he raised 
professional training in law, medicine, and engineering to the postgraduate level. 

The most hotly debated of the Eliot reforms was the elective system, which 
ran directly counter to almost all the accepted notions of the relationship of 
students to their colleges. Even relatively "liberal" educators felt that Harvard's 

president had gone too far, but the elective idea rode a ground swell of favorable 
public sentiment, and soon it was spreading to college after college. 

Harvard also led the way in the reform of legal and medical education, both 
of which were in a particularly sorry state at the time of Eliot's ascendancy. 
In the law school aided by the brilliant Dean C. C. Langdell Eliot changed 
a haphazard eighteen-month course to a very demanding three-year one, and 
he changed the technique of teaching to the celebrated "case method." This 
method, which emphasized learning legal principles through study of actual 
cases rather than the mere memorizing of statutes, was scoffed at by lawyers 
until it was found that Harvard's graduates were far better equipped profes- 
sionally than those from other law schools. 

In the field of medical education the need for reform was even more urgent, 
for the universities had been turning out an astonishing number of dangerously 
incompetent doctors who were guilty of gross malpractice and, in many instan- 
ces, killed as many patients as they cured. An indication of the wretched 
educational background that most medical students possessed was provided in 
1870 when the head of th. medical school at Harvard objected vigorously to 
giving examinations on the grounds that "a majority of the students cannot 
write well enough." But it was at Harvard, nevertheless, that the reforms came, 
swift and sweeping reforms instituted by Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes of the 
medical faculty. A three-year graduate course was instituted, entrance require- 
ments were drastically stiffened, and despite vehement objections from the 
medical profession, an entirely new concept of professional competence was 

While these great reforms were going on in the established universities, 
equally significant strides were being made in the field of women's education. 
Higher education for women had not been unheard of before the war, but it 
had been regarded by the average American with profound distrust, as indeed 
was any concept which seemed to take women out of their traditional role as 
mothers and homemakers. This distrust, of course, did not disappear in the 
sixties and seventies, but it was beaten back by reformers to a degree that per- 
mitted women's education to move toward a new role in American life. The 
greatest step was the establishment of three first-rate colleges exclusively for 
women: Vassar (1865) in New York State, and Smith and Wellesley (both 1875) 
in Massachusetts. For the first time in its history the nation had women's 
colleges operating on standards just as high as those of the men's colleges. 

The advances in education made scarcely as dramatic a story as the huge eco- 
nomic and social advances represented by the expansion of industry and the 
opening of the West, but they reflected the cultural changes that made 
the America of the eighties an incomparably different place from the America 
of pre-Civil War days. Theodore Roosevelt was one of the first to benefit from 
these changes. 



in Utah marked the completion of the 3, 2 50- mile transcon- 
tinental railroad. From then on, Americans were able to 
travel from New York to San Francisco in less than a week. 

DINING AND SLEEPING CARS made long journeys less 
tedious and more comfortable. George Pullman first built them 
in 1864. The air brake, invented by George Westinghouse 
four years later, and the safety coupler made traveling safe. 

cific, starting westward from Omaha in 1 865, was built 
in feverish haste. Pushing through the territories of 
Nebraska and Wyoming and across the Rockies, the 
rails were laid as far as the Great Salt Basin by 1869. 
At the same time the Central Pacific, starting east- 

ward from San Francisco, reached Utah. The two rails 
met at Promontory Point on May 10, 1869. The rail- 
roads opened up vast tracts of hitherto inaccessible ter- 
ritory to settlement; they increased commerce a hun- 
dredfold; they carried mineral, agricultural and other 
products from one part of the country to the other. 



OIL ADVERTISEMENT one of the earliest on record. Issued by Samuel 
M. Kier in Pittsburgh in January 1852, four years after oil was * 'discovered 
in boring for Salt Water near the Bank of the Allegheny River, Allegheny 
County, Penna., about Four Hundred Feet below the Earth's surface." 
This Petroleum, or Rock Oil, as sold by Kier at his Canal Basin store in 
Pittsburgh, was in the inventor's words "a natural remedy." Another of 
his advertisements extolled the amazing, all-inclusive healing virtues of the 
new discovery. "The lame, through its instrumentality, were made to walk 
the blind, to see. Those who had suffered for years under the torturing 
pains of RHEUMATISM, GOUT AND NEURALGIA were restored 
to health and usefulness," asserted the enthusiastic advertisement. 

THE FIRST STEEL PLANT. The Carnegie-owned Edgar Thomson 
Works made its initial Bessemer blow in August, 1875; shortly thereafter 
Pittsburgh's first steel rail slid through the rollers. Steel was turned out 
cheaply and in immense quantities, making huge profits for the mill. 


In the year 1847 or thereabouts, 
Samuel M. Kier, the owner of 
a fleet of canalboats between 
Pittsburgh and Philadelphia, 
began bottling and selling 
petroleum as medicine. He 
drew this as a by-product of 
his father's salt wells near Tar- 
entum in Pennsylvania. Al- 
though Kier charged a modest 
fee for his medicine, "the most 
wonderful remedy ever dis- 
covered," he could not sell all 



the oil that he produced. In his attempt to find other 
methods to utilize his oil, he consulted a chemist in 
Philadelphia for advice, and followed up his conver- 
sation with experiments in distilling petroleum. Con- 
vinced that if he could eliminate the smoke and odor 
of the product, petroleum could be used for lighting 
lamps, he erected a one-barrel still in Pittsburgh the 
first oil refinery in the United States. Kicr's "carbon 
oil" was not only cheaper but safer and better than 
the tallow or whale oil which until then had been 
used for illumination. At first Kier sold a gallon for 
75$, but when the number of customers increased, 
he upped the price, first to $1.50, then to $2.00. His 

chief trouble was that, however hard he tried, he 
could not increase his supply. This problem was 
solved when, in the latter days of August 1859, Edwin 
L. Drakea former conductor of the New York & 
New Haven Railroad struck oil in Titusville, using 
a six horse-power engine and a "Long John" tubular 
boiler which was stationary. Time proved he had 
tapped one of the greatest subterranean deposits of 
petroleum in America. With Drake's strike, the era 
of oil began. The photograph shows the Drake well 
five years later. On the wheelbarrow is "Uncle Billy" 
Smith, the driller who was paid $2.50 a day and 
who first perceived the oil floating in the well. 


itself in the enormous number of inventions 
which were patented in the decade after the 
war. Since the early days of the republic, to 
invent things has been a great American 
pastime. In the years before and after the 
Civil War, American-made sewing machines, 
American reapers, American revolvers, and 
American circular saws became popular 
commodities. With families filling up the 
country at breakneck speed, the great task 
before the American ijiventor was to help the 
women run their homes with less effort. 
Labor-saving devices were sorely needed, 
foremost among them a washing machine. 
This early contraption was cumbersome, 
but, to the joy of the housewives, it worked. 

inventor's mind occupied. The question of how to 
move from one place to another without much effort 
waited for solution. Inventors tried feverishly to find 
a vehicle which would be a substitute for the horse- 
drawn carriage. They came up with a series of new 
ideas, one of them the unicycle as pictured on the 
right. Regular bicycles with rotary cranks were 
invented in 1865 by Pierre Lallement in Paris. After 
selling his patent to M. Michaux, Lallement emi- 
grated to America and worked on the same idea. 
These first machines were extremely heavy and came 
to be known as "boneshakers" because of their vibra- 
tion on the rough roads. Some of the models had 
tremendous front wheels up to 64 inches in diame- 
ter, while rear wheels shrank to 12 inches or less. 

MAKING CAKES with a cake machine 
that was invented in the late sixties. New 
inventions penetrated every industry, every 
manufacturing establishment, producing 
goods which for centuries, and sometimes for 
millcniums like bread had been made by 
hand. Whether it was a machine for making 
bread or for canning food, every new imple- 
ment not only increased production, but in- 
fluenced and changed the habits of the 
American people. One of the great sights of 
Washington was the Patent Office. The 
number of patents granted by the federal 
government came to 36,000 by 1860. Thirty 
years later this number had increased over 
twelvefold. By 1890 half a million patents 
had been granted to American inventors. 


model of 1875. Life for women, not only in 
the newly broken country, but in the urban 
areas as well, was harder than that of the 
men. A woman had to care for her husband 
and children; she had to tend the chickens 
and milk the cows. She had to cook for the 
family, sew the children's clothing, do the 
laundry, clean the house and she had to 
do all this without labor-saving devices. 
Thus, when inventors lightened her burden 
with improved stoves or practical sewing 
machines, such inventions were greeted with 
enthusiasm. Manufacturers reaped enor- 
mous profits on household appliances. A 
single manufacturer within a year sold 20,000 
sewing machines, costing from $50 to $150. 


THE TYPEWRITER was first used to help the 
blind or the paralytic. The early machines were 
unwieldy and not easy to operate, but by 1867 
Christopher Latham Sholes, Carlos Glidden, and 
Samuel W. Soul had introduced a practical model. 
After many experiments, the machine proved a suc- 
cess. With expanding commerce, expanding busi- 
ness, typewriters became an everyday necessity. At 
first the machines had only capital letters, but when 
in 1873 the gunmaking firm of Remington and Sons 
at Ilion, New York, took up manufacturing the Sholes- 
Glidden machine, the modern typewriter was born. 
It revolutionized American life; women typists in- 
vaded the offices. Theodore Roosevelt was the first 
President whose letters were almost all typewritten. 

MASS PRODUCTION grew to be a burn- 
ing need as the waves of immigration 
brought hundreds of thousands of newcom- 
ers to America. They needed clothing, they 
needed shoes, they needed goods. The prim- 
itive ways of making apparel at home had 
to be supplanted by the faster production of 
machines. Newly developed shoemaking ma- 
chinery turned out footwear in great quan- 
tities, causing distress among the old crafts- 
men. With the installation of such machines, 
a master cobbler was not able to earn more 
than a dollar a day. His job was not steady; for 
weeks he was without employment. One fac- 
tory with less than 100 hands produced more 
footwear in a day than could all the 30,000 
bootmakers in Paris during an entire year. 


GROWTH. The country expanded rapidly. A year 
before the Civil War began, the total railroad mile- 
age in the country was 30,000; by the turn of the 
century it had increased to no less than 193,000. 

procured in hotels of the growing towns which 
mushroomed along the railroad lines. The above 
is the Grand Island Hotel in Platte, Nebraska. 

MAIN STREET of Helena, Montana, in 1863. In 
1790 only 5.1 per cent of the population lived in 
places with more than 2,500 inhabitants; by 1860 
this percentage had risen to 19.8; by 1900 to 39.7. 


The land needed men to develop the country and to 
develop it fast. Men arrived in droves a quarter of a 
million in 1865. Eight years later this number had 
already been doubled. People came, hoping for a 
better life, hoping for opportunities and work. By 



1875 about 20 per cent of the nation's population 
was foreign born. 

The greatest number of immigrants came from the 
British Isles, followed by Germans, Scandinavians 
and Dutch. Some Americans were disturbed by the 

influx of such a large foreign element; they were 
critical of the illiteracy of the eastern Eurppcans; they 
were worried about the congregation of the Irish in 
the city slums and the clannishness of the Germans 
and Scandinavians in the northwest settlements. 


THE STAGE COACH, Not until October 1858 
the very month Theodore Roosevelt was born had 
an attempt been made to carry mail by means of a 
regular overland service across the continent to 
California. Before that, letters from New York were 
sent by water to San Francisco, taking three to four 
weeks to arrive. But when in 1860 the Pony Express 

was established to carry the mail on horseback, 
changing horses and riders every 50 or 75 miles, the 
almost 2,000 miles from St. Joseph to San Francisco 
were made in less than nine days. 

The Pony Express appealed to the American im- 
agination. Brave men on brave horses rode at break- 
neck speed, fighting the elements and the Indians 


SHOOTING BUFFALO from the trains of the 
Kansas Pacific Railroad became an extremely popu- 
lar sport. Within twenty-five years the great herd, an 
estimated 13,000,000 animals, had been wiped out. 

CATTLE TOWNS like Wichita, Kansas, grew 
fast. When in 1873 a spur line connected Wichita 
with the Santa F6, 350,000 head of cattle were 
shipped from its yards in that single year alone. 

on the way. Unhappily it lasted only a few short 
months. With the completion of the telegraph line 
in October 1861, the Pony Express had outlived its 
usefulness. The overland stages like Holladay's 
famous line or Wells, Fargo (see above) took mail 
and passengers. With the expanding railroad lines, 
the stages, too, were to pass, and with them romance. 

sissippi. The newcomer cleared the land, broke the 
sod, plowed the earth, worked ceaselessly, reaping 
his reward in the bountiful yield of the virgin soil. 



In a steady and constant 
stream, men and women 
pushed forward to settle and 
to live on the vast and unex- 
ploited land. Conestoga wag- 
ons, prairie schooners, drawn 
by oxen, mules, and horses, 
two to ten drawing each team, 
crossed the country, moving 
slowly, taking people from 
one frontier to the other. Emi- 
grants traveled together, well 
armed to protect themselves 
against the Indians. The jour- 
ney was perilous. Some of 
those who were not strong 
enough to endure the hard- 
ships died on the way and 
were buried in the strange 
soil. But those who survived 
pushed on with high hopes. 
Their faith in the future they 
painted on the sides of their 
vehicles in bold letters: "Root 
Hog or Die," "Pike's Peak or 

This rare photograph taken 
by Alexander Gardner in 
October 1867 depicts a bull 
train crossing the Smoky River 
near the town of Ellsworth, 
Kansas. It is the first known 
picture of such a migration. 


':" \v^''-'V'7< '*''-. T"S' v.v; : ^'"" Vi v-:-- '^''^^^^^v'V^p 
' : ^,v ' v-Vv' .,;,"";'' :-^ '-Xv#'& : /^*;.,, ;.X* 

' :' ' v'- 1 ^:. 1 ' "'"/>>;'- ;' ! -<y?^\y^r;}:':v^- ;: 


The Pilgrims crossed the sea, / To make the West, as 
they the East, / The homestead of the free!" sang the 
poet Whittier. This is an early ranch house on a 
central Kansas homestead. It was photographed, 
tame elk and all, by Alexander Gardner in 1867. 
The Homestead Act, passed by Congress in 1862, 
provided that all present and prospective citizens 
could receive 160 acres of land free if they would re- 

side on it for five years. The Act proved a great im- 
petus for many a city dweller and immigrant to 
move out West. In the year of 1865, no less than 
160,000,000 acres were entered under the homestead 
laws; the following year, 1,892,000 acres; in 1867 
the acreage declined slightly to 1,788,000, but in the 
next year it rose to 2,328,923 acres. After the Civil 
War, five to seven million acres of land were sold or 
granted every single year to prospective settlers. 




To understand Theodore Roosevelt's actions as President, one has to keep 
in mind the history of the administrations before him particularly that of 
General Grant. 

Under Grant's administration public morality reached a new low. There was 
a tremendous growth in national wealth, but no parallel growth in public 
sensibilities. Riches were available as never before, and premiums were placed 
on ruthlessness and avarice. The huge government contracts of the war years 
had created a new class of coarse and unprincipled men who sought more and 
more money without regard for the damage that their harsh actions brought 
to their fellow men. 

Because of this, it was unfortunate for America that General Grant, who 
had served the nation so well in war, should have been elevated to the White 
House. The same qualities that had contributed to his success as a general 
tended to make him a bungler in politics, and his ineptitude left him an easy 
mark for rascals who stood to profit through presidential favors. He inherited 
from his army life a deep sense of loyalty to friends, and, since his judgment of 
men was often poor, it placed him constantly in the position of standing by 
friends who had committed disservices toward both him and the nation. Grant 
had neither training nor experience for the high political office. His inability 
to arrive at sound political decisions on his own made him dependent on ad- 
visers that he selected with great naivet6. His first Cabinet was the most inept 
in the nation's history so impossible, in fact, that all of the men had to be 
booted out before a year was up. 

The general had scarcely been in office six months when he became involved 
in the first of a number of scandals that were to spatter mud on the adminis- 
tration during his two terms. It was the celebrated "gold conspiracy" carried 
out in September of 1 869 by two of the nation's most notorious speculators, 
Jay Gould and "Jim" Fisk, who cornered the gold market, created a severe 
panic on the Stock Exchange and enriched themselves with millions, all within 
the span of a few days. Both Gould and Fisk maintained an easy friendship 
with Grant, whom they convinced that it would benefit the country to restrain 
the Treasury from selling gold. It was a remarkable commentary on the 
morals of the period that this familiarity was not the subject of widespread 

Men like Gould and Fisk bought politicians wholesale who favored bills 
which would further enrich the men who bought them. Their example was 
followed in almost every state of the Union. In Pennsylvania, Simon Cameron 103 

ruled state politics with an iron hand, permitting the Pennsylvania Railroad 
and the coal companies to abrogate to themselves special privileges that defied 
any fair estimate of the rights of the general public. In the Kansas Legisla- 
ture, a fearless and reform-minded representative dramatically laid down on 
the Speaker's table $7,000 that he was able to prove had been paid to him by 
the Republican machine in order to assure his voting for the re-election of U. S. 
Senator Samuel C. Pomeroy. In Illinois, free-spending lobbyists pushed 
through hundreds of illegal acts of incorporation, and in other Midwestern 
states the revelation of grafts and scandals was almost daily fare. 

If state politics were riddled with scandal, municipal politics were worse; 
for this was the era in which some of the most flagrant of the corrupt city "ma- 
chines" rose to power. The grossest performance took place in New York City, 
where the Democratic "Tweed Ring" operated in an unholy alliance with the 
upstate Republican machine under an agreement whereby the Republicans 
pushed favorable legislation through the State House and split the spoils. 

The basis of Tweed's political power was significant, for its pattern was fol- 
lowed by other corrupt city machines for many decades to come. It rested pri- 
marily on the gratitude and support of the poor, particularly immigrants, who 
needed help in their daily problems. The machine was ably set up to give this 
help. Through its ward and precinct organizations it paid poor people's debts, 
distributed food on holidays, sponsored picnics and social events, squashed 
court actions against petty offenders, and most important found or created 
jobs for those in need. All it asked in exchange was a vote on election day. At 
the same time, it staved off opposition from more rich and powerful citizens 
by selling special privileges on a wholesale basis and by granting fat and cor- 
rupt contracts to those from whom it purchased goods and services. Thus the 
machine had the support of rich and poor alike. 

By 1871 it was estimated that the Tweed Ring had stolen a total of about 
$20,000,000, and all this within a few short months. In one day alone the 
members of the ring sitting as a board of special audit approved expendi- 
tures totaling nearly $16,000,000, of which about $14,000,000 was pure graft. 

At the national level thievery was not as bald and open as in many of the 
cities; but it was nevertheless an important characteristic of the postwar years, 
and its demoralizing effect was all the greater because of the loftier status of 
its participants. Perhaps the most flagrant among those who sought special 
favors were the railroad interests, which maintained a corps of well-paid 
Washington lobbyists with liberal expense accounts. Particularly questionable 
were the government's relations with the Union Pacific, which received be- 
tween 1865 and 1869 more than half a million dollars in special subsidies under 
extraordinarily liberal terms. 

The most alarming disclosure of railroad corruption was the affair of the 
Cr6dit Mobilier, a company which was formed by a group of Union Pacific 
stockholders to take over the contract for building the line's transcontinental 
route. The stockholders awarded themselves contracts for construction and 
supplies at figures so high that the railroad's profit was drastically reduced, 
104 while the holding company the Credit Mobilier paid out large dividends. 

To avoid governmental censure, the astute financiers distributed Credit 
Mobilier stock to influential congressmen. It was graft of the first order. 

Under the influence of booming prosperity and loose political morality, 
Washington social life blossomed during Grant's terms as it never had before. 
The dominant note was sounded by the newly rich who had flocked to the 
capital in pursuit of their business interests. They set a fast, gay pace: epicurean 
dinners, costly balls, heavy drinking, and much gambling. Older and more 
staid leaders of Washington society withdrew from the social whirl, disdain- 
fully leaving the field to those with more money and less taste. 

It was all but inevitable that the lack of statesmanship in the administra- 
tion should have produced a rebellion in Republican ranks, particularly in 
view of the constantly mounting public distaste for the Radicals 9 stringent re- 
construction policies in the South. The rebellion, when it came, was headed 
by the "Liberal Republicans," a group which numbered among its ranks such 
distinguished men as Horace Greeley, editor of the New York Tribune, Charles 
Francis Adams, Massachusetts political leader, whose father and grandfather 
had both been Presidents, and Carl Schurz, German-born newspaper editor 
who had fled from autocracy abroad and had fought constantly on the side of 
liberal policies in America. 

As the 1872 Republican national convention drew near, it became obvious 
that the Radical wing of the party wanted Grant for a second term. In the 
face of this, the Liberals staged a convention in Cincinnati, nominating Greeley 
for the presidency and B. Gratz Brown of Missouri for the vice-presidency. 

The success of the Liberal rebellion hinged on support from the Democrats, 
and this was obtained at the subsequent Democratic national convention in 
Baltimore. Greeley, who had once been an abolitionist and who did not favor 
the other Liberals' opposition to high tariffs, was not particularly pleasing to 
the Democrats; but they realized that they could not defeat Grant on their 
own, and so they quickly, if reluctantly, accepted both Greeley and the plat- 
form on which he had been nominated. General Sherman, writing to his 
brother from Paris, remarked: "Grant, who never was a Republican, is your 
candidate, and Greeley, who never was a Democrat, but quite the reverse, is 
the Democratic candidate." 

In the campaign, personal abuse reached new depths, particularly through 
the pen of Thomas Nast, whose cartoons lauded Grant and attacked Greeley 
with unparalleled savagery. Even the campaign songs were vicious, the Re- 
publicans singing of Greeley's "free love and free farms," the Liberals singing 
of Grant "shouting the battle-cry of plunder," Despite the earnestness of their 
fight, the Liberals' attempt to stop Grant ended in failure. The general won, 
and Radical Republicanism was in the saddle for another four years. 

On the day of General Grant's second inauguration fourteen-year-old 
Theodore Roosevelt "started out for the Jordan." He had left Jerusalem with 
his parents three days before, and now they reached the Dead Sea. "Of course 
we bathed in it," recorded Teedie. "It was a strange bath.. You could not sink. 
You. could really sit upright in deep water. The after effects were by no means 
unpleasant." This could not be said for General Grant's administration. 105 

BLACK FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 24, 1869. The excitement in the New York Stock Ex- 
change after the Treasury Department placed four millions in gold on the market was im- 
mense. With this, the gold conspiracy of the two speculators Jay Gould and Jim Fisk came 
to a sudden end. The two rascals had taken advantage of President Grant's trusting nature 
and used him for their own unscrupulous machinations. They cornered the gold market 
and made a fortune for themselves. Their plan was simple. After persuading the President 
that farm prices would climb and farmers would be more prosperous if gold became scarce, 
and that it was poor policy for the Treasury to sell gold and relieve the shortage, they pro- 
ceeded with their scheme. Not fearing governmental interference, they quickly bought up 
all the available gold supply, driving the price of gold from 140 to l63 l /2 within four days. 
As soon as the naive Grant realized that he had been duped, he ordered the Treasury to 
put gold on the market. But even before his order could be carried out, the speculators were 
tipped off by Mrs. Grant's brother. When Abel Corbin informed Gould of the President's 
decision, the two speculators sold out their holdings in a hurry, making millions of profit on 
the transaction. But those who had emulated them and who had not received the warning 
were smashed, their fortunes wiped out. When a congressional committee asked Fisk what 
had become of the money he made, he replied that "It has gone where the woodbine twineth." 



Both of them show President Grant with his Secre- 
tary of State, Hamilton Fish, and the British lion. 
During the Civil War, England allowed warships to 
be built and outfitted for the Confederacy in the 
British Isles. When these ships were ready, the Eng- 
lish Government in spite of repeated and serious 
warnings of our Minister allowed them to leave the 
shores of England and prey on the commerce of the 
United States. The most famous Confederate raider 
was the Alabama, which left Liverpool in the summer 
of 1862, causing an estimated damage of $20,000,000 
to the Union's boats and their cargoes. (One of the 

men responsible for the building of the Alabama was 
Theodore Roosevelt's "Uncle Jimmy" Bulloch.) 

When the war ended and after protracted nego- 
tiations between the United States and Great Britain 
the two countries finally agreed in 1871 that the 
damage claims upon the Alabama and other war- 
ships should be settled by an international arbitra- 
tion tribunal. This tribunal, meeting shortly there- 
after in Geneva, Switzerland, awarded $15,500,000 
in damages to the United States. Britain accepted 
the tribunal's decision with good grace and cordial re- 
lations between the two countries were resumed. 




great railroad corruptions of the era. The Cr6dit 
Mobilier was a construction company of the Union 
Pacific Railway, formed for the express purpose of 
taking over the contract for building the transcon- 
tinental route. It was a highly lucrative device: as 
Credit Mobilier, the Union Pacific stockholders 
awarded to themselves fatly padded contracts for 

construction and supplies, thus milking the railroad 
dry of profits. To avoid governmental interference, 
the financiers offered influential congressmen Cr6dit 
Mobilier stock "at par," far below its real value. It 
was a clear bribe, and it reflected on the public 
morality of the time that the legislators were not 
above accepting such graft. When a congressional 
committee investigated the sordid business, Massa- 


chusetts Representative Oakes Ames who had dis- 
tributed the bribes was singled out as the scape- 
goat. Ames remarked with dry humor that he felt 
"like the man in Massachusetts who committed 
adultery, and the jury brought in a verdict that he 
was guilty as the devil but that the woman was as 
innocent as an angel." The above cartoon was drawn 
by artist Joseph Keppler and appeared in Puck. 

WILLIAM M. TWEED, as chairman of the New 
York Board of Supervisors and a deputy street com- 
missioner, was in control of expenditures for public 
works. He concocted a profitable scheme: for every 
bit of work in the city be it paving, cleaning of 
streets, or the purchase of supplies he asked the 
contractors for bills which were 60 to 85 per cent 
higher than the originals. The difference was then 
distributed between Republican and Democratic 
legislators the Tweed Ring who had originally 
voted for the improvements. Thus the new courcy 
courthouse, which the city was to build for $250,000, 
cost the taxpayers $8,000,000, out of which $7,000,000 
went into the pockets of the politicians. It is said that 
the Tweed Ring in its short existence stole over $20,- 
000,000 a large enough sum to have built Brooklyn 

That Tweed could steal in such grand manner 
was partly because the poor and ignorant Irish and 
German immigrants, who were helped by his ma- 
chine, voted for him and his crooked companions, 
and partly because rich and powerful citizens re- 
ceived special privileges and were granted fat con- 
tracts by the crooks. However, in the end, Boss 
Tweed was unmasked and put into jail, where he died. 




HORACE GREELEY, the flamboyant 
editor of the New York Tribune, became 
the presidential candidate of the Lib- 
eral Republicans and the Democrats. 


Lack of statesmanship in the administration, the 
steadily mounting graft and corruption, the Radical 
Republican stringent reconstruction policies created 
unrest within the Republican ranks, which gradually 
grew into an open rebellion against President Grant 
and his political advisers. Some of the best brains in 
the party abhorred the low morality of the admin- 
istration and the malpractices which blossomed out 
under Grant and were allowed to flourish without 
punishment. These Republicans "Liberal Repub- 
licans" as they were called caused a serious split in 
the party. Determined to block a second term for 
Grant, they assembled in a separate nominating 
convention in Cincinnati and issued a platform a 
forceful attack on the Grant administration. They 
pointed out that the President had "openly used the 
powers and opportunities of his high office for the 
promotion of personal ends," that he had "kept 
notoriously corrupt and unworthy men in places of 
power and responsibility, to the detriment of the 
public interest," that he had "rewarded with influ- 
ential and lucrative offices men who had acquired 
his favor by valuable presents, thus stimulating the 
demoralization of our political life by his conspicuous 
example," that he had "shown himself deplorably 
unequal to the task imposed upon him by the neces- 
sities of the country, and culpably careless of the re- 
sponsibilities of his high office." The Liberal Repub- 
licans chose Horace Greeley as their presidential 
candidate in the belief that the Democrats would 
also endorse him, which they did. 

The scurrilous campaign that followed ended in 
General Grant's victory. He was still the hero of the 
people. The defeated Greeley, broken in soul and spir- 
it, died even before the electoral votes were counted. 


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SAVAGE CARTOONS AGAINST GREELEY once used in a speech: "Let us clasp hands over the 

Two samples from the pen of Thomas Nast, who bloody chasm" was used by Nast over and over 

ceaselessly assailed Horace Greeley and fought him again in his text. His drawings repeatedly depicted 

relentlessly. The harmless sentence which Greeley "Old Horace" as the man "over the bloody chasm." 





In the well-ordered Roosevelt household the postwar clamor of grafters, 
venal politicians, and the newly rich was scarcely audible. Family life continued 
to move with grace and serenity. 

When Theodore was eleven years old his father had a man-to-man talk with 
him. "Vou have the mind, but not the body," the father said, "and without the 
help of the body the mind cannot go as far as it should. You must make your 
body. It is hard drudgery to make one's body, but I know you will do it." 

And the boy responded to his father's advice with characteristic determina- 
tion. He had embarked on the program of tedious body-building that was to 
alter his entire outlook on life. The second floor of the 20th Street house had 
been converted into an outdoor gymnasium with swings, seesaws, and parallel 
bars. "For many years," his sister Corinne remembered, "one of my most vivid 
recollections is seeing him between the horizontal bars, widening his chest by 
regular, monotonous motion." 

It was more than a year later that a humiliating incident re-emphasized to 
Theodore his physical shortcomings. The scene was a stagecoach en route to 
Moosehead Lake in Maine, where he was being sent to recuperate from a vio- 
lent attack of asthma. Two boys his own age on the coach began taunting him 
mercilessly during his coughing fits. Theodore tried to fight them only to 
discover that "either one singly could not only handle me with easy contempt, 
but handle me so as not to hurt me much and yet to prevent my doing any 
damage whatever in return." 

This experience wounded him deeply. "I made up my mind," he later wrote, 
"that I must never again be put in such a helpless position; and having become 
quickly and bitterly conscious that I did not have the natural prowess to hold 
my own, I decided I would try to supply its place by training." 

In the fall of 1872 his parents took another trip to Europe. To the children 
the itinerary was far more exciting than on the first trip, for it included the Holy 
Land, parts of the Near East, and best of all a journey up the Nile River 
by chartered boat. Elliott noted: "Teedie and I won't mind the Nile very much, 
now that we have a boat to row in, perhaps it won't be so bad after all what with 
rowing, boxing, and Christmas and playing, in between lessons and the ruins." 

As on the earlier voyage, the boy kept a diary, noting the main events of each 
day. The first stop was Liverpool, where the Roosevelts visited the Bulloths 
and where Theodore made the entry that he was "much annoyed by the street 
boys who immediately knew me for a Yankee and pestered me fearfully." From 115 


England the family traveled via Bonn "an old town and, like all old towns 
has both advantages and disadvantages" to Paris, and from there to Brindisi, 
where they embarked for Alexandria. 

The two-month voyage on the Nile was made in a dahabeah, or river boat. 
The A boo Erdan was comfortable, but old and awkward; when the wind was 
right, a sail was hoisted, and when sailing was not possible, the craft was towed 
from the river bank by its native crew. For Teedie the most satisfying part of the 
journey was the huge variety of strange wild life. Equipped with an ornitho- 
logical guidebook and a double-barreled shotgun, he began in earnest to collect 
specimens of birds and animals. 

The ornithological book and the shotgun were, in a sense, symbols of a 
curious conflict that was to take place in the boy's conscience for many years. 
On the one hand, he had the instincts of an ardent conservationist and lover 
of wild things. On the other hand, he liked to hunt. To his childhood friend 
Edith Carow, who later became his wife, he wrote from Egypt that the gun his 
father gave him at Christmas rendered him "happy and the rest of the family 
miserable." And he added: "1 killed several hundred birds with it, and then 
went and lost it!" 

Along with his new enthusiasm for hunting, Teedie seemed to have acquired 
a new fund of physical stamina. Asthma attacks occurred, but far less frequently 
than in the past. For the first time he became the recognized leader of "We 
Three." His physical energy seemed almost inexhaustible. "He is a most 
enthusiastic sportsman," his father wrote, "and has infused some of his spirit 
into me. Yesterday I walked through the bogs with him at the risk of sinking 
hopelessly and helplessly, for hours, and carried the dragoman's gun, which is 
a muzzle-loader, with which I only shot several birds quietly resting upon 
distant limbs and fallen trees; but I felt I must keep up with Teedie." It was 
the first time that the athletic father had ever found difficulty in matching the 
pace set by the boy. 

When not actually hunting, Teedie was likely to be leading Conie and Ellie 
on exhaustive explorations through the historic ruins and ancient temples 
that lined the Nile Valley. On shipboard his principal occupation was skinning 
and stuffing his specimens, a ritual generally performed on deck before a 
fascinated audience of native crew men. For the Roosevelt family, however, the 
boy's taxidermy was not nearly so fascinating. On one occasion there was great 
consternation when a well-meaning family maid placed in his personal wash kit 
a toothbrush which, it turned out, he had been using to apply arsenical pre- 
servative soap to animal skins. On another occasion Ellie rebelled against 
sharing hotel rooms with a brother whose luggage included innumerable birds 
and beasts in varying states of preservation. 

In February the family left Egypt for a six- week tour of the Holy Land and 

Syria, covering most of the route in a series of camping trips. For the children 

the trip was one of almost continual delight. They tried unsuccessfully to dive 

in the buoyant water of the Dead Sea; they saw the hill where Jesus was cru- 

116 cified; they talked and traded ^ijth, Arab sheiks; they crossed the River Jordan 

and rode caravan to the city of Damascus. From the Middle East the family 
proceeded to Athens, which Theodore's diary describes as lacking "the mag- 
nificent beauty of Baalbek and the gloomy grandeur of Karnak," and a week 
later to Constantinople. 

The parents decided that Theodore, Corinne, and Elliott would be boarded 
for a few months with a family in Germany so that they might learn to speak 
German and absorb some Old World culture. The two boys, and ultimately 
Conie as well, stayed in the household of Dr. Minckwitz in Dresden, where they 
found a delightful and intellectually profitable atmosphere. They always 
remembered the kindliness and good cheer of their German hosts. Instruction 
was ably provided by the three amiable and well-educated Minckwitz daugh- 
ters; but the two sons, both students at the University of Leipzig, proved more 
fascinating to the Roosevelt children. Both young men were members of duel- 
ing corps, and both had many scars to prove it. One was known as "The Red 
Duke" because of his scarlet hair, and the other as "Sir Rhinoceros" because 
a dueling sword had once chopped off the tip of his nose. 

In Dresden, Theodore continued his progress in boxing and added specimens 
to his rapidly growing natural history collection. "Last night," Elliott wrote to 
his uncle, "in a round of one minute and a half with Teedie, he got a bloody 
nose and I got a bloody mouth, and in a round with Johnnie I got a bloody 
mouth again and he a pair of purple eyes. Then Johnnie gave Teedie another 
bloody nose." In a subsequent letter to his aunt, Theodore happily described 
himself as "a bully boy with a black eye." 

There were other diversions, too. In a letter to his father Teedie remarks that 
he has been spending much time "translating natural history, wrestling with 
Richard, a young cousin of the Minckwitz' whom I can throw as often as he 
throws me, and I also sometimes cook, although my efforts in the culinary art 
are really confined to grinding coffee, beating eggs, or making hash, and such 
light labors." 

It was in Dresden that the children first saw Shakespeare's A Midsummer 
Night's Dream, Twelfth Night, and The Taming of the Shrew on the stage. Plays at the 
German theaters began at six o'clock in the evening and were over by nine, so 
the young Roosevelts were able to spend many delightful evenings simultane- 
ously improving their knowledge of German and Shakespeare. 

As the summer waned, Teedie recorded the state of his affairs: "Health; good. 
Lessons; good. Play hours; bad. Appetite; good. Accounts; good. Clothes; 
greasy. Shoes; holey. Hair; more a-la-Mop than ever." More significant, per- 
haps, was a report of his brother Elliott about him: "Suddenly an idea has 
got hold of Teedie that we did not know enough German for the time we have 
been here, so he has asked Miss Anna to give him larger lessons, and of course 
I could not be left behind so we are working harder than ever in our lives." 

In October, Mrs. Roosevelt arrived in Dresden from Carlsbad, where she had 
been taking the cure, to pick up her children; and in a few days they, complete 
with souvenirs and specimens, were bidding fond farewells to the Minckwitz 
family. The lovely days of Dresden had come to a close. 117 


second voyage to Europe, of various animal skeletons. 
Shortly before the sailing it had been discovered 
that he could not see well, and he was taken to a doc- 
tor, who prescribed eyeglasses. "I had no idea how 
beautiful the world was until I got those spectacles," 

he wrote in his Autobiography. "I had been a clumsy 
and awkward little boy, and while much of my 
clumsiness and awkwardness was doubtless due to 
general characteristics, a great deal of it was due to 
the fact that I could not see and yet was wholly 
ignorant that I was not seeing." 

AN ENTRY IN THE DIARY in Paris, on Novem- 
ber 14, 1872: "In the morning I went out and 
bought some larks and buntings, which I returned 
home and skinned." Theodore was now in his taxi- 
dermist phase. "After dinner I went out and took a 
little walk, which was abruptly stopped by a rain 
shower. . 

"Paris is a good deal changed since 1870. The 
traces of the Commune are seen everywhere. The 
Palace of the Tuilleries is a mass of crumbling ruins 
and the Column Vendome a mere stump. Burnt 
buildings and pulled down houses are to be seen 
everywhere. Father and Mother joined us tonight." 

For the next week the most important event of 
the day seemed to be that Teedie had "skinned 
some birds in the morning," since this sentence is 
repeated in his diary four times in as many days. 

From Paris the Roosevelt family took the train 
and traveled via Turin and Bologna, where "as 
usual everybody combines to cheat you," to Brindisi 
in Italy, where they boarded a ship which was to 
take them to Alexandria and the wonders of the Nile. 



Theodore wrote lyrically in his diary on November 
28, 1872: "At eight o'clock we arrived in sight of 
Alexandria. How I gazed on it! It was Egypt, the 
land of my dreams. ... it was a sight to awaken a 

thousand thoughts, and it did. . . . The broken re* 
mains of numerous old Egyptian Gods were scat- 
tered all around. On seeing this stately remain of 
former glory I felt a great deal but I said nothing. 
You can not express yourself on such an occasion." 



In December of 1872 the Roosevelt family and their 
friends were in Cairo looking for a dahabeah the 
houseboat of the land. The Aboo Erdan pleased them, 
"the nicest, coziest, pleasantest little place you ever 

Journeying down the Nile, Theodore and his 
father often left the boat, walking and shooting 
along the river. The dry air helped Teedie's condi- 
tion; his asthma attacks subsided. He hunted a 
great deal, brought animals on board, and stuffed 
the specimens. Every morning, Anna, the eldest of 
the children, gave her younger brothers and sister 
lessons in the French language. 

The Roosevelts stopped at Luxor and visited the 
temple of Karnak. Theodore was overawed. "It was 
not only beautiful," he wrote in his diary, "it was 
grand, magnificent and awe-inspiring. It seemed to 
take me back thousands of years, to the time of the 
Pharaohs and to inspire thought which can never 
be spoken, a glimpse of the ineffable, of the 

The family had a lovely time on the boat, and had 
a most delightful time sight-seeing and hunting. 
When the voyage was over and the boat returned to 
Cairo everyone agreed that it was one of their 
happiest experiences. 

Once, as they were mooring near another 
dahabeah, they discovered Ralph Waldo Emerson 
with his daughter, who also were touring Egypt, 
and they called on him. What Theodore's impression 
was of Emerson, we do not know; unfortunately, he 
did not record it. But he recorded that "There has 
always been something to do, for we could always 
fall back upon shooting when everything else failed 
us." And he proudly added up at the end of the 
voyage his accomplishment: during the journey he 
had procured no less than "one to two hundred 

The group photograph, probably taken during 
the time the Roosevelts were staying at Shepheard's 
Hotel in Cairo, shows from left to right (leaning on 
the chairs): Augustus Jay of New York, Francis 
Merriam of Boston, and Clift Smith of New York. 
Sitting: Edith Smith, Mrs. and Mr. Theodore Roose- 
velt, Mrs. Clift Smith, Elizabeth Clift Smith, and 
Nathaniel Thayer. The four Roosevelt children on 
the floor: Anna, Corinne, Theodore, and Elliott. 




The tousle-haired boy on the left, almost fifteen years old, is Theodore Roosevelt; next to 
him is his younger brother, Elliott. Standing: Cousin Maude Elliott. On the right: Corinne 
Roosevelt and her cousin John Elliott. After their journey in Egypt, Syria, Greece, and 
Turkey the Roosevelt children went by boat and train to Dresden, Germany, where they 
stayed with a German family. As their mother's sister-in-law, the widow of Stuart Elliott, 
was living in Dresden with her four children, she kept an eye on her Roosevelt nephews 
and niece who were studying in the Saxon city the life and language of the German people. 


A TRAGEDY is described and drawn by Teedie. 
"My arsenic was confiscated and my mice thrown out 
of the window. In cases like this I would approach a 

refractory female, mouse in hand, corner her, and 
bang the mouse very near her face until she was . . . 
convinced of the wickedness of her actions." 



Animal sketches by Theodore Roose- 
velt, made in the seventies. He had 
learned to be more scientific, de- 
scribing animals with their proper 
Latin names and where he had ob- 
served them. "Elanus coeruleus I 
found this handsome little kite com- 
mon in Egypt in winter. It feeds on 
insects, which it takes on the wing, 
and also on lizards, etc. It flies very 
swiftly and beautifully," reads one 
of his ornithological observations 
made in Egypt. Another record 
from Germany: "Palumbus tor- 
quatus I found it cpmmon in 
summer around Dresden." A French 
notation: "Podiceps minor Com- 
mon in the small pools near Paris." 


last page of one of his letters writ ten 'in Dresden to 
his sister Anna, illustrating his idea of the Darwinian 
theory in reverse as it would affect him, changing 
his figure into that of a stork, his brother Elliott 
into a bull, and his cousin Johnny into a monkey. 




On September 1 8, 1 873 about the time the not yet fifteen-year-old Theodore 
Roosevelt horrified his hosts in Germany "by bringing home a dead bat" an 
incredulous American public first heard the news that Jay Cooke and Company, 
the financial world's Rock of Gibraltar, had gone into bankruptcy. It was the 
dramatic end to the era of Northern prosperity that followed the Civil War. 

The effects of Jay Cooke's disastrous failure were felt all over the land. The 
New York Stock Exchange suspended operations for ten days. In the economic 
stagnation that followed, there were 5,830 bankruptcies in 1874; 7,740 in 1875; 
and 10,478 in the rock-bottom year of 1878. And as the depression spread, half 
of the iron and steel mills were shut down, and about 500,000 workers were 
laid off in the railway industry alone. 

Augmenting the physical hardship of economic privation was the demoral- 
ization brought on by an increasing loss of public faith in the practices of the 
nation's business community. Almost every business failure revealed some de- 
gree of fraud, gross selfishness, or just plain incompetence on the part of private 
management. When banks closed their doors the small depositors suffered, but 
the officers and directors usually managed to emerge relatively unscathed. 
As example after example of financial chicanery was laid bare, Wall Street 
became the target of an ever-increasing volume of public outcry. 

Long before the business panic had struck the industrial East, the farmers 
of the Middle West were tasting the bitter fruit of economic hardship. As with 
industry, their basic problem was overexpansion. The amount of flour received 
in the Chicago market increased tenfold between 1854 and 1868; the amount 
of wheat more than fivefold. Throughout the Civil War prices remained high. 
But by 1869 wheat and flour were piling up in the shipping centers, and prices 
paid to the farmer dropped by 20, 30, and finally as much as 50 per cent. 

The American farmer would not accept these conditions without protest. 
He had gone West in response to the promise of prosperity, and he felt bitter 
and disillusioned that the promise had been an empty one. For him it was a 
harsh life, particularly on the Great Plains, where winters were icy, summers 
parched, and neighbors were few and far between. Many homesteaders had 
moved to the western country with nothing but a few pieces of furniture, some 
tools and hope. When hope failed, there was nowhere to turn but back. A 
familiar sight during the seventies were the eastward-traveling covered wagons 
with such inscriptions as "In God We Trusted, In Kansas We Busted." 

The bitterness of these hard-pressed farmers was directed at several targets: 
the railroads, the stock and grain dealers, and the bankers who held farm 125 



mortgages. The abuses practiced by railroads were often blatant and open. 
Freight rates were so high that a bushel of corn might bring the farmer 15$ 
in Iowa and yet sell for 70* in the East. The railroad men were arrogant, they 
abused the small farmers in the same way that they abused the government. 
By issuing free passes, bribing brazenly, and buying legislators, they insured 
themselves by keeping their special privileges. 

If the railroad men were bad, the produce dealers and middlemen were 
even worse. As they owned storage facilities, they had the power to buy wheat 
at low prices and sell at high. By 1870 about half the amount paid for a bushel 
of wheat in the East was going into a middleman's pocket. The banks, mean- 
while, were taking advantage of the farmers' poor bargaining position by set- 
ting mortgage interest rates as high as 15 or even 20 per cent. 

It was not difficult for the farmer to realize that as long as he remained un- 
organized, the banks, the middlemen, and the railroads would burden him 
with exorbitant demands. Divided, he was the victim of every businessman 
with whom he dealt; united, he would exercise tremendous power. Thus, the 
Patrons of Husbandry better known as the Grange the first national 
farmers' organization, came into being; within a few years it boasted a mem- 
bership of 1,500,000. Through their organization, farmers were soon learning 
the advantages of pooling their purchases, of paying cash, and of by-passing 
middlemen. Typical of the achievements along these lines was the formation, 
with Grange endorsement, of the great mail-order house of Montgomery 
Ward. This thriving company saved millions of dollars for farmers simply by 
forcing local dealers to sell at fair prices. 

In many states of the Middle West the farmers formed independent agrarian 
parties, elected congressmen and legislators to carry out their programs, and 
requested that private corporations should be regulated by the government 
in the interests of the public welfare. 

Obviously, the lessons of the Grange could not be lost on the urban indus- 
trial workers. But unlike agrarian organization, the labor movement with 
3,000,000 unemployed during the depression years progressed slowly. The 
leading labor organization was the Knights of Labor, formed in 1869 by the 
Philadelphia garment cutter Uriah S. Stevens. Dedicated to the aim of "one 
big union," the Knights aroused little enthusiasm among many trade-unionists 
who did not wish to join with unskilled workers. Another labor organization 
was the secret society known as the "Molly Maguires." An outgrowth of the 
Ancient Order of Hibernians, the Molly Maguire movement was limited to 
the anthracite coal mining region of Pennsylvania, where it fought bad work- 
ing conditions by methods of property destruction and even assassination. 

Despite the weakness of labor, the first great nationwide strike in the 
country's history was attempted in the summer of 1877 by the Brotherhood 
of Locomotive Engineers, an organization that included trainmen, trackmen, 
and conductors. This powerful union of 50,000 members had long been a 
thorn in the side of railway management. Determined to break its strength, 
126 the railroads ordered flat wage cuts of 10 per cent. In the strike, federal troops 

and local police fought the battle for management. In Baltimore nine strikers 
were killed, scores wounded; in Pittsburgh twenty-five were killed, and an en- 
raged mob did millions of dollars' worth of damage to railroad property. 

Ultimately the strike failed, but its memory lingered on. Capital learned for 
the first time that organized workers represented a power that could not be 
lightly dismissed; and labor, despite its defeat, attained a new sense of 
solidarity. One direct result of the strike was labor's participation with Western 
agrarians in the Greenback-Labor movement a year later. On a ticket 
demanding fiscal and industrial reform, the new party won over a million votes 
and, to the surprise of everyone, elected fourteen congressmen. 

The combination of depression, labor unrest, and agrarian revolt seriously 
weakened President Grant's popularity. His position was further jeopardized 
by a series of new political scandals that came to light during his second term, 
underlining the nepotism and general ineptness of the party in power. 

Next to railroad graft, perhaps the most flagrant source of political immo- 
rality was the internal revenue system, which presented easy opportunities for 
unscrupulous corporations that wished to evade taxes. The worst offenders 
were the liquor distillers. A so-called "Whisky Ring," operating principally in 
St. Louis and composed of distillers and U.S. revenue agents, had been 
mulcting the government out of hundreds of thousands of dollars in taxes. 
Grant's private secretary was implicated, and the President himself, though 
innocent of any awareness of what had been going on, was found to have ac- 
cepted gifts from the Whisky Ring that indicated a regrettable lack of sense 
for the proprieties. 

Other revelations proved scarcely more palatable. In the Treasury Depart- 
ment, Secretary William A. Richardson had to send in his resignation after 
one of his agents had been rewarded with a 50-per-cent commission for col- 
lecting $427,000 in overdue revenue. Secretary of War W. W. Belknap also 
resigned to avoid impeachment when it was discovered that he had been paid 
a total of $24,450 as a bribe to retain in office an unscrupulous post trader at 
Fort Sill in the Indian Territory. And Congress did little to purify the Wash- 
ington atmosphere when in 1873 it callously approved the "Salary-Grab" 
Act, under which all congressmen were given a 50-per-cent pay increase, 
retroactive to 1871. This bill met with such vigorous public censure that it had 
to be repealed in short order. 

With so many black marks on its record, there was no surprise when, in 
the mid-term elections of 1874, the Republican administration suffered a 
severe setback. Democrats won control of the House of Representatives by a 
majority of 70 by far their best showing in any national election since the 
Civil War. Most of the Southern states were in the Democratic column. The 
Republican dream of using the Negro vote to dominate that area failed. 

Thus, while America "went to the dogs," Theodore Roosevelt prepared for 
the future. It was in September 1873 that he returned from Dresden to the 
States and, better equipped mentally and stronger physically, took up studies 
which in three years' time enabled him to become enrolled at Harvard. 127 


The rapid expansion in business and industry turned 
out goods in greater quantities than the country 
could absorb. This condition brought on the financial 
panic of 1873, one of the severest in the nation's his- 
tory. The cost of living was high, wages were low. In 
desperation the workers struck back at the employ- 
ers. There were strikes on the railroads, there were 
strikes in the mines. The laboring men realized that 
their demands for higher wages and better working 
conditions could only be made effective if they acted 
together as a group and not as individuals. Thus 
they held congresses in the large cities, in which 
they asked for the eight-hour working day, for gov- 
ernment inspection of mines and factories, for the 
regulation of railroad rates, the cessation of further 
land grants to the mammoth railroad corporations, 
the establishment of an income tax, and the exclu- 
sion of cheap Chinese labor. They further demanded 
free public education for their children and the cre- 
ation of a Labor Department in Washington. These 
demands, growing out of hardship and poverty, 
came as a reaction to the enormous fortunes irrespon- 
sible capitalists had amassed by exploiting the men 
who worked for them. They had to be considered. 

UNCLE SAM with his reform stick beats out the 
corrupt mushrooms of the Grant administration a 
cartoon by Joseph Keppler in Puck, the outstanding 
political and satirical weekly. 
The country, disgusted with the graft and comip- 


tion of the Grant administration, had turned its back 
on the Republicans and elected a Democratic House of 
Representatives. The Senate remained in Republican 
hands, but by a diminished majority. The reform cle- 
ment in the Republican party the Liberal Republi- 

cans asked for a thorough housecleaning. "Let no 
guilty man escape," exclaimed President Grant. But 
these belated and pious words had hardly any mean- 
ing. Most of the culprits had not only escaped, but 
had kept the money they had stolen from the public. 


i '''':. ' J 3y! ti r~^G&' 


'!V'*. .;** - %k/' 

.''' ^?OL' * s '" A ' ' iW *:^ ' 

GRANT AS CAESAR a biting cartoon by Matt Morgan in Frank Leslie's Illustrated News- 
paper, satirizing President Grant as a Roman emperor sitting upon a pile of moneybags, 
and replying to the pleas of the Boys in Blue: "No! No! I make it a rule only to receive. I 
never give anything." Toward the end of his second administration the President's popu- 
larity was at its lowest ebb. The country which had cheered him so enthusiastically at the 
commencement of his presidency was sorely disappointed. With the aureole of the 
military hero dimmed, Grant was seen in his real colors an inept bungler under whom 
graft and corruption were rampant. The American people grew bitter that their hero did 
not measure up to their ideal, they grew bitter when they discovered that he had feet of clay. 


SCANDALS UNDER GRANT-the Sanborn con- 
tracts. A law of 1872 allowed high fees for collecting 
bad debts for the government. A man named San- 
born began to collect not bad but good debts to the 
tune of almost half a million dollars, keeping 50 per 
cent as commission, a large part of which went to 
Benjamin F. Butler, a political friend of the President. 

and the Belknap bribe. (1) A ring of revenue offi- 
cials in St. Louis accepted large sums of money from 
distillers for nonpayment of taxes on whisky. 
(2) Secretary of War William Belknap was allowed by 
President Grant "with great regret" to resign after 
taking bribes from an Indian agent at Fort Sill. 

TROUBLES UNDER GRANT the farmers in the West rebelled. Their demands for a 
better life were attacked and labeled by some papers as Communist and un-American. 




By the time the Roosevelts were settled in their new house in New York 
Mr. Roosevelt had sold the 20th Street property and moved "uptown" to a 
house near the corner of 57th Street and Fifth Avenue the depression was 
at its height. 

Bad times had no effect on the Roosevelts, whose economic prosperity 
rested on a sound and conservative foundation. Least of all did they affect the 
existence of young Theodore, whose major problem at this time was to pre- 
pare himself for admission to Harvard College. 

Although his health had greatly improved, his asthma attacks were still too 
troublesome to permit his being sent away to boarding school. His previous 
education had been so irregular that there was no school into which he could 
have fitted readily. In some subjects history and languages, for example he 
was well ahead of most boys his age. In other subjects, most notably Latin and 
mathematics, he was far behind. Therefore it was thought that the best solution 
was to place him in the hands of a young tutor, who could also supervise Elliott 
and Corinne's studies as well. Such a man was found in the person of Arthur 
W. Cutler, who later founded the Cutler School in New York. His able tutelage 
combined with the conscientiousness of the pupil enabled Theodore to 
accomplish three years' work in two. 

The job of preparing Theodore for college was made somewhat easier 
by the huge fund of miscellaneous geographic and historical knowledge the boy 
had acquired in Europe, and by the scientific background that his interest in 
natural history had given him. Most helpful of all, he had been a voracious 
reader throughout his young life. "There was," he recalled later, "very little 
effort made to compel me to read books, my father and mother having the good 
sense not to try to get me to read anything I did not like, unless it was in the 
way of study. I was given the chance to read books that they thought I ought 
to read, but if I did not like them I was then given some other good book that 
I did like." This wise parental policy made books a joy and encouraged the 
boy's reading habits; thus, at the age often, he was able to record in his diary 
that he had already devoured some fifty novels. 

Concentrated though his college preparatory studies were, they did not 
curtail Theodore's progress in other fields. He matured rapidly; the small-boy 
nickname of "Teedie" was applied to him less and less frequently. Friends 
addressed him now as Teddy (which he disliked throughout his life) or, more 133 


~-~r,* n oroT-i-n n/*>DT\f\ri? 7VTJE/J? YRAR OF 1875 

often, as Theodore. He became more interested in girls and joined in the well- 
regulated social life of the young people in his family's milieu. He attended with 
pleasure a carefully recruited dancing class that his parents had organized in 
the city; and he became a leader in such group activities as skating parties and 
picnics in Central Park. 

This blossoming social life was given considerable impetus in 1874 when his 
parents decided to join the summer colony that had been started at Oyster Bay, 
Long Island, many years earlier by the children's grandfather. The house they 
rented for the next three summers was named "Tranquillity " a source of con- 
siderable amusement to their friends. "Anything less tranquil than that happy 
home at Oyster Bay could hardly be imagined," Theodore's sister recalled. 

But to the Roosevelt children it seemed enchanted. There were endless 
horseback rides through open fields and country lanes. There were swimming 
parties and picnics. And, most enjoyable of all, there were frequent all-day 
boat trips across the bay, where the children and their friends would spend the 
afternoon stretched out on the sand, indulging in poetry contests or reading 
aloud to one another. A favorite companion for Theodore on these excursions 
was Edith Kermit Carow, who was one day to become his wife the same 
"Eidieth" whose portrait had led Teedie to such pangs of homesickness in Paris 
five years earlier. 

Theodore's new social life was not without its minor catastrophes. His sister 
has described one ridiculous episode that took place when Theodore rowed 
across Oyster Bay to visit a young lady on the opposite side. "He started at five 
o'clock in the morning," writes Corinne, "and reached the other shore at eight 
o'clock. Thinking it too early to pay a call, he lay down on a large rock and 
went to sleep, waking up to find his boat had drifted far away. When he put 
on his spectacles he could see the boat at a distance, but, of course, did not 
wish to swim with his clothes on, and decided to remove them temporarily. 
Having secured the boat, he forgot that it might be wise to put on his clothes 
before sleeping again under the dock. To his perfect horror, waking suddenly 
about an hour later, the boat, clothes, and all had vanished. At the same 
moment he heard the footsteps of his fair inamorata on the wooden planks of 
the dock above his head. She had walked down with a friend to greet the admirer 
whom she expected at about nine o'clock. His description of his feelings as he 
lay shivering, though not from cold, while above him they calmly discussed his 
probable arrival and the fact that they thought they would wait there to greet 
him, can probably be imagined." Eventually he was able to retrieve his clothes, 
but he was so annoyed at being placed in that embarrassing plight that he rowed 
back home without paying the proposed visit. 

Along with his social and academic activities, Theodore also found time to 
continue the body-building program he had launched in the gymnasium on 
20th Street five years earlier. In Dresden he had stopped keeping his youthful 
diary; now it was resumed in 1875 as a "sporting calendar," in which he 
recorded the milestones of his athletic progress. The entries were terse and 
134 uniformly favorable to Theodore, who referred to himself in the third person 

throughout: "Race between Johnny & Theodore. Theodore won/' "Theodore 
& West wrestling and boxing. T. won." "Vaulting. Theodore, Elliott & W. 
Jacobs. T. won making 5 ft. 8Vi in." "Wrestling Theodore beat Elliott." 

Boxing lessons under the kindly tutelage of ex-prize fighter John Long 
continued. On one occasion the instructor, hoping to encourage more vigorous 
competition among his pupils, staged a tournament in which, to everyone's 
surprise, Theodore won first prize among the lightweight contenders and was 
duly awarded a pewter mug to commemorate the triumph one of his favorite 
possessions. His increased physical stamina also became evident on the several 
camping trips that he made during this period in the Adirondack Mountains 
and in the Maine woods. To his sister Anna he wrote from Maine in 1875: "I 
have just come back from an eight days trip to Mt. Katahdin with Arthur 
and Emlen. Rather to my surprise I found that I could carry heavier loads and 
travel farther and faster than either of them; and could stand rough work better." 

Other letters to his elder sister revealed his continuing interest in natural 
history. From Oyster Bay he wrote in August 1876: "I spent the early part of 
this week at the Osbornes and had a lovely time, the days being full of 'orni- 
thological enjoyment and reptilian rapture.' I came home with ajar of pickled 
toads and salamanders." Again from Oyster Bay: "I am writing in a rather 
smelly room as the fresh skins of eight night herons are reposing on the table 
beside me." Long Island proved a fertile field for the young ornithologist, and 
he happily put in long hours at gathering, mounting and classifying his grow- 
ing collection of specimens. "I worked with greater industry than either intel- 
ligence or success," he noted forty years later, "and made very few additions 
to the sum of human knowledge; but to this day certain obscure ornithological 
publications may be found in which are recorded such items as, for instance, 
that on one occasion a fish-crow and on another an Ipswich sparrow, were 
obtained by one Theodore Roosevelt Jr. at Oyster Bay, on the shore of Long 
Island Sound." 

Theodore was keen to make natural history his profession. During the 
summers at Oyster Bay and the first year at college, he and his father had many 
long and serious talks on this subject. The father's advice was tolerant and sen- 
sible: if Theodore really wanted to devote his life to nonremunerative scientific 
work, he was free to do so, and with parental blessing. But he must realize that 
it would mean a far more modest scale of living than he had been accustomed 
to; and above all, he must approach any such work, not halfheartedly, but 
with just as much determination and earnestness as if he were trying to make 
his own way in the business world. Choosing a naturalist's career must under 
no circumstances serve as an excuse for a life of mere dilettantism. 

In the spring of 1876 he took the entrance examinations for Harvard, passing 
them with ease. And in September of the same year he left Oyster Bay and 
the house on 57th Street for Cambridge. 



Theodore was more confident of himself than ever 
before. He was no longer a weak and sickly boy, no 
longer an easy prey for bullies. He could take care 
of himself, he could use his fists and his muscles. 
Carleton Putnam in the outstanding study on 
Roosevelt's formative years gives this perceptive 
thumbnail sketch: "Young Theodore's rebellion 
against his personal limitations and the traits this 
struggle had developed were already beginning to 
be transferred to other, more objective fields. He was 
continuing to show an almost ruthless singleminded- 
ness where his interests were aroused. The exhaus- 
tive fashion in which he described and classified his 
collection, the pains he took in skinning, dissecting 
and stuffing specimens, above all the initiative and 
sustained effort implicit in his approach, were more 
and more suggestive of a purposeful, determined 
personality." He had positive opinions, he had defi- 
nite judgments, which though at times wrong 
were always firm. Following the footsteps of his 
father, whom he admired, he lived a clean and 
moral life. Aware of his social position, he was willing 
to give a shining example of how to behave toward 
those who were less fortunate than he himself. 

on Mo return with his family fro* a long ftiropean trip rreai~ 
dent ftooftovolt, than Theodore Roooovolt, jr., began Me preparation for 
college in October irrt under the direction of Arthur H. Cutior. It 
waa tho tally plan from tho beginning that young Rooa<milt*a education 
ehoull be aa prootiool ee tbo deoande of Marram than allow*!, home ho 
wan prepare* on tho mlnlmm requirement only In Greek, but OBphaalo woo 
laid en nothOBatloe, rieeiitory ftol*noo, Latin and Hlotory, while nodorn 
languecea were etudlel under not Ire toaonere. At fir at the atudiee 
were arrla4 on by the otnod of olaoa work, rroeldont Mooaawatt being 
Joined by hi* brother, tha lata 111 lot Rooawvolt and by Ma ooualn, tha 
lata W, woot Heoeeralt In forcing tha olaeo, but taring tha laat pert 
f hla preparation tha work waa antlraly individual aa ha alone off tha 
throe pr appeal to ontor Harvard. Although thla preparation VM bogun 
in a tentative way in U*f it waa not until tha OUNMT of 1S*4 that a 
oerlouo plan of otudy waa undertaken, but from that tiaw tha olert, 

vigoroBO atanotar of young Baoooralt'a alnd boia ovidont and ho oaat- 

plotad in two yooro tha work whioh had uaually raaulrad tnroo yaan. It 

oannot bo aali that tho future Proaidxint axhibltod profiolanoy In one 
lino aura than anothor; ho did oxoollontly In all linoo and wtillo ho 
aaaad to onjoy aoro tho tudy of Vodont Unguag** *M Rlatory, ho did 
not Mfloot nathoMtloo or tha dry anolont languagoa. 

It waa tho fudly bollof that otudy olioiald oontlnuo in OUMMT 
M woll ao in wlntor, and oo work waa purouod at Oyotor tay during July, 
AuctMt and toptoMbor aa at tho town houoo o toot 8Tth fltroot during tho 
root wf tho yoar. Study' va* not oovoro during tho uwwr, rooitationo 
and wropovatlM raroly looting MOTO than throo hour* dolly, from to 

IB, whlla tha wlntor work took from alx to alght hour* dally, 
were ohort roooaaaa too of ton daya or a fortnight, one lato in Juno, 
another in Auguat for a oaapinf oxouralon to tha Adlrondaoko, a third 
lato in September and a fourth at Chrlatoaa, but there were oubotantially 
ton Bontha of foimal otudy in oaoh yoar. flow nuoh Infoncal otudy there 
waa prooldont Roooovolt hlwaelf alone oan toll for hla Bind woo attracted 
in many dlmetlono thon oo now. Tho young BOH never aooawd to know 
what idlonooo waa and ovary lalaure voBont would find tho loot novol, 
OOBO Bvliofc olMoio or oomo abotruoo boot on latural Hlotory in bio 
hand. Tho atudy of latural llatory woo hla ahlof reoroatlon than oo 
it BOO oontlnuod to oo. la hod an unuooally largo oollootion of blrdo 
and OBOII aniaolo, ahot and awuntod by hiaoolf , and ranging la habitat 
froB Bjnrpt to tho wooda of foBnoylTanla. in hio oxourolono outoido 
tho alty, hla rine wmo alwayo with mte, and tho outfit of o toaOAomiot 

in tho Outlor aobool of thio alty, hut aohool lifo with tho ramlflootiano 
of otblotloo, ooolotioo and oahool thootrioalo woo dnnun at that tiao, 
bt tho fttturo Prooldont nod onoh oport if thoro woo no gridiron foot- 
boll flold whore ho oouid taokla Ma opponent nor any ointor trook whore 
bo oould opriat. no rodo horiabaok BUOB ond woll, ho bond woll, ho 
abot woll (oo wo ho?o oald) and he woo the fleoteet of hi* amtoo in tholr 
bar foot roooo. Bo oeomod to have looa Intoroot in oalllng than would 
ho oapootom of ono who opont throo nantbo of oooh wow at Oyotor Bay, 
but that WM probably beeouoe BO nany rthor thlaga latrooted 

Roosevelt began serious preparation for Harvard in 
October 1873. His tutor was Arthur H. Cutler, who 
left a memorandum as to his pupil's ability. "He 

completed," wrote Cutler, "in two years the work 
which had usually required three years." Theodore 
studied diligently summer and winter, especially 
enjoying the study of modern languages and history. 


THEODORE'S SPORTING CALENDAR, in weight was 124 pounds, his height 5 feet 8 inches, 

which he noted the exact measurements of his chest, In keeping track of his athletic achievements he jotted 

waist, thigh, neck, shoulders, and arms on November down everything that seemed to him important with 

1, 1875. Now seventeen, he was still slender; his the same care which had characterized his diaries. 

Road, at Oyster Bay, Long Island, where the 
Roosevelts went after their return from abroad in 
1874. It was called "Tranquillity" and looked some- 
what like Mrs. Roosevelt's paternal home in Georgia. 

The family stayed there in the summer months, 
while their winter address was now 6 West 57th 
Street. The former home on 20th Street had been 
sold so they could be nearer Central Park and out 
in the country, which 57th Street was in those days. 




In 1876, the year Theodore entered Harvard, the United States celebrated 
the centennial of the Declaration of Independence. In its first hundred years 
the country had grown far beyond the wildest dreams of the Founding Fathers. 
It had grown into a spectacular land, in which good and evil were holding a 
precarious balance. An unfriendly observer coming to our shores in 1876 might 
have painted a gloomy picture of American life, showing in dark colors the 
worst aspects: industrial strife, demoralizing bread lines, political corruption, 
ugly and decrepit housing conditions of the poor. But a friendly observer, 
while admitting all the abuses, would have pointed out that beneath the trou- 
bled surface the progress of the nation had been greater than that of any other 
country in all the world's history. 

The event that did more than anything else to make Americans appreciate 
their own achievement was the great Centennial Fair at Philadelphia. The 
numerous exhibits from abroad were balanced by thousands of American 
ones. Household wares from England, textiles from France, jewels from India, 
watches from Switzerland, lacquer from Japan, ivory from Africa, clocks from 
Germany were more than matched by demonstrations of special skills by 
Waltham's watchmakers, Trenton's ceramic workers, Lowell's textile weavers. 
It was perhaps the greatest exhibition of all times. Ten million visitors came 
almost a fourth of the country's population to gasp at the industrial, tech- 
nical, and cultural wonders. 

A few short weeks after the fair closed, the nation went to the polls to select 
its next President in the most closely contested election of American history. 
Ever since the Democratic resurgence in the mid-term elections of 1874, it had 
been apparent that the Republican party was in danger of losing the Presi- 
dency. With business failures steadily increasing and with scandal after scan- 
dal revealing the ineptitude of the Republican administration, the Democrats 
were certain that the next Chief Magistrate would be chosen from their ranks. 

For the high office, Rutherford B. Hayes, the Republican governor of Ohio, 
opposed Samuel J. Tilden, the liberal, reform-minded Democratic governor of 
New York. And when the votes were counted, it seemed that Samuel J. Tilden 
would be the next President of the United States. On the night of the election, 
even the most resolutely Republican newspapers conceded his triumph. But in 
the early hours of the following day, editors of the New York Times discovered 
a ray of hope; they saw a possibility of eking out a Republican victory in the 
electoral college. At daybreak they sent a message to the party's national 
chairman, Zachariah Chandler, who was at the time sleeping off the effects of 139 


liquor taken the previous night. Republican victory depended on winning 
three Southern states South Carolina, Florida, and Louisiana which had 
been generally assumed to have gone Democratic but which were still under 
carpetbag control. If the Republicans could retain their grip in these three 
states, the victory would be theirs. In the electoral college 185 votes constituted 
the majority. Thus, if the votes of the three doubtful states could be counted 
for Hayes, he would be the President, winning the office by a single vote. 

Instantly telegrams went out from party headquarters to Republican leaders 
in the three states. "Hayes is elected if we have carried South Carolina, 
Florida, and Louisiana. Can you hold your state?" By late afternoon Chandler 
felt confident enough to issue the statement: "Hayes has 185 electoral votes 
and is elected." 

It was many weeks, however, before this verdict could be reached officially. 
Congress placed the decision in the hands of an electoral commission, and this 
commission, by a strict party-line vote, decided in favor of Hayes. Thus the 
Republicans won the Presidency but in a larger sense it was a Democratic 
victory. The federal troops were withdrawn from the South, bringing to an 
end the Reconstruction era, and from that time on, the South has been a 
stronghold of the Democratic party. 

During the seventies the idealistic energies of social reformers began to take 
root in American soil. The American people, painfully aware of their short- 
comings in their moral and social responsibilities, began to correct their faults. 

The first municipal health board in New York was given power to close up 
some of the city's disease-infested slums, ordering tenement owners to improve 
housing conditions for their more than 100,000 tenants. The "poorhouses," 
filthy and unsanitary, holding indigent families, were improved. The reformers 
turned their attention to prisons, rampant with corruption and cruelty, to 
abuses of animals, and this, in turn, led to the crusade against cruelty to help- 
less children. That story is a fascinating one and worth telling. 

It was in 1874 that a starved and beaten nine-year-old girl was brought be- 
fore a New York municipal court, and the court was asked that the girl be con- 
sidered an animal, because as such she would have the protection of the law 
for mistreated beasts. The reformer Jacob Riis, later a friend of Theodore 
Roosevelt, described the Scene in the courtroom: "I saw the unclothed child 
laid at the feet of the judge, who turned his face away, and in the stillness of 
that courtroom I heard a voice raised, claiming for that child the protection 
man had denied it, in the name of the hopeless cur on the streets." The case 
of the little girl impressed the people so deeply that it led to the formation of 
the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children. 

One questions why conditions could become so wretched in a free, demo- 
cratic society. The answer is not hard to give. The seventies and the decades 
after them were the decades of the laissez-faire philosophy. Let people alone, 
let them solve their own problems and difficulties; do not interfere with them. 
Society believed that as there should be no restriction or governmental inter- 
ference with business, there should likewise be no interference in the relation- 
140 ship of parents and their children. But, when freedom of action was abused 

by irresponsible men, it became necessary to put restrictions on such freedom 
to protect the weak and the helpless. 

Much of the humanitarian endeavor originated in the nation's churches, 
where men like Dwight L. Moody, the great evangelist, made Americans 
aware of their obligation to better the lot of their fellow men. One direct out- 
growth of this "revivalist" movement was the American branch of the Salva- 
tion Army, which achieved early and widespread support for its program of 
rescuing the souls of society's derelicts. More secular, though also with heavy 
religious overtones, were the Young Men's and Young Women's Christian As- 
sociations, which both scored tremendous gains in membership during the 

But the movement through which religion accomplished its greatest social 
influence was the crusade against intoxicating liquor. As a natural reaction 
against the moral laxity of the postwar years, the movement acquired new ag- 
gressiveness in the 1870s with a war against "Demon Rum" and the political 
and social problems that intemperance had created. The Women's Christian 
Temperance Union, which started in 1874 as a praying crusade to shut down 
saloons in upstate New York and Ohio, became by the end of the decade a 
national organization of such strength that it caused serious concern to the 
liquor interests and practical politicians. 

Closely allied with the temperance movement was the women's suffrage 
crusade, which had its beginnings in pre-Civil War days but emerged with new 
vigor in these years. The emancipation of the Negro added an effective weapon 
to the suffrage advocates' arsenal: why, so people asked, were women not 
entitled to equal rights with ex-slaves? Two indefatigable women, Susan B. 
Anthony and Elizabeth Cady, led the battle, lecturing, writing, and organ- 
izing demonstrations wherever they could obtain a hearing. "We speak in 
school houses, barns, sawmills, log cabins with boards for seats and lanterns 
strung around for lights," wrote Miss Anthony during a crusade in Kansas, 
"but people come twenty miles to hear." Often ridiculed by women as well as 
by men, they nevertheless added thousands of converts to their banner with 
each succeeding year. That, in the end, success would crown their endeavor 
could never be in doubt. 

Though many good citizens joined the reform movements, many opposed 
them, as they interfered in affairs that were said to be none of the reformers' 
business a cry which one has heard whenever powerful interests have had to 
submit to regulations making them respect the rights of their economically in- 
ferior brother. But the very feet that such movements could flourish in the 
America of the seventies and that they could produce results was greatly heart- 
ening; it indicated that the country was awakening to its moral and social re- 
sponsibility. The new interest in humanitarian endeavor, like the accomplish- 
ments displayed at the great centennial in Philadelphia, was welcome evidence 
that the nation was entering its second century of existence in a fundamentally 
sound condition. 



was celebrated by a great world's fair at Philadelphia, 
the birthplace of the republic. On May 10, 1876, 
President Ulysses S. Grant opened the Exhibition. It 
was a great moment in the nation's history. Casting 
aside the cares and worries of the depression, Amer- 

icans renewed their faith in themselves. They showed 
their industrial, scientific, and cultural achievements, 
and what glorious achievements they were! The Ex- 
hibition pointed to a new era of industrial expansion, 
to an era of abundance and of better and more com- 
fortable living for all those who could afford it. 

the industrial wonders of the fair, 
furnished power to all the machinery 
in the main exhibition hall. This 
marvel of the age had 1,500 horse- 
power and weighed 8,000 tons. Ten 
million visitors came to see it and 
the other exhibits that showed the 
enormous strides that had been made 
in technology. True, the country was 
in the midst of a severe depression 
with hundreds of thousands unem- 
ployed and with bread lines miles 
long, but it was true also that within 
the last two decades the nation's 
wealth had increased threefold; the 
steel output alone had in one decade 
multiplied almost a hundred times. 


THE KRUPP GUN EXHIBIT, a proof of German 
superiority in the construction of murderous weapons, 
weapons so frightening that they were to stop all wars. 
The possible havoc of such guns would be so great 
so the political oracles said that it would not pay 
nations to settle differences on battlefields, a proph- 


was the telephone, the invention of 
Alexander Graham Bell, called by 
the London Times "the latest Ameri- 
can humbug." In March 1876 
after three years of experiment on 
a device which could reproduce by 
means of electricity the tones of the 
human voice Bell talked into his 
machine, and his words, "Mr. Wat- 
son, come here; I want you," were 
heard around the world. At first 
telephones were rented out in pairs 
for parties who desired to com- 
municate with each other, but in 
1878 the first commercial switch- 
board was installed in New Haven 
with a subscriber list of twenty-one. 

ecy which, as we learned, was not quite proved 
by subsequent events. And while the Germans im- 
pressed the fair's visitors with guns, America showed 
exhibits of ores and mining processes, of scientific 
techniques for soil conservation, of industrial prod- 
ucts, and other of its peaceful achievements. 


LIFE IN THE COUNTRY: spelling matches especially in the West -were popular and 
drew large audiences. The age of amusements was still in the future no motor cars, no 
movies, no gramophones yet the people had to be content with simple pleasures. They played 
parlor games, went to lectures, listening to the orations of the great men, read books and 
magazines, and enjoyed each other's company. Some of their grandchildren in later years 
said that their grandparents lived a rather boring and dull life, that they had few diversions 
and not many pleasures. One wonders whether their criticism had validity; one wonders 
whether grandfather and grandmother did not have a more purposeful and enjoyable 
existence than their fun-seeking grandsons and granddaughters two generations after them. 


An artist's impression of the 
smoking saloon and the parlor 
car on a train of the Pennsylvania 
Railroad, which operated be- 
tween New York and Philadel- 
phia. Americans began to move 
around the country; they traveled 
in trains, though the well-to-do 
still preferred a European voyage 
to a trip at home. America was 
not yet fashionable; Europe was 
still the vogue. The "better 
classes" still imitated European 
customs and European manners. 
Mothers of wealthy girls were still 
looking for a European prince or 
count or baron for their offspring. 


LIFE IN THE CITY: Christmas shopping in New York. The gulf between rich and poor 
was vast. On one side were the wealthy, as pictured in the drawing by an artist of Frank 
Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper in 1876, able to buy all the expensive dolls and presents for 
their children, while on the other side peeping through the window was the poor family 
of immigrants who could only look at the "holiday goods of every description." Though the 
artist may have overdrawn conditions, generally he was not off the mark. More than 
100,000 people in New York alone dwelt in slums; the "poorhouses" were filled with families 
who could not make the grade; prisons harbored many a young man who had turned in 
despair to crime. Social consciousness had not yet awakened in the minds of the well-to-do. 


of New York. The artist pictured 
the excitement in the trading 
room when the news came from 
Russia that that country had de- 
clared war. Wars are always 
beneficial to prices of foodstuffs. 
With tremendously increasing 
crops in the state of Kansas 
alone the corn crops had in- 
creased within two decades from 
6,000,000 to over 100,000,000 
bushels it became lucrative to 
speculate on the Produce Ex- 
change. Fortunes were made 
as America was expanding its 
economy and as the frontier was 
pushed farther and farther back. 




licans and seven Democrats, gave -the votes of the 
three disputed Southern carpetbag states to Hayes. 

REPUBLICAN APPROVAL. Senator Conkling, a DEMOCRATIC PROTEST. When the Electoral 
prime mover behind the scenes, tells Zachariah Commission gave the votes of Louisiana to Hayes, the 
Chandler to disband his "noble army of conspirators." Democrats in the House promptly signed a protest. 

"TILDEN OR BLOOD" says the cartoon. But 
Tilden, the Democratic candidate, accepted the 
verdict of the commission, preferring it to Civil War. 


ANNOUNCING THE RESULT in the early hours 
of March 2, when the president of the Senate revealed 
that Hayes received 185 votes and won the election. 

MIDNIGHT, MARCH 3, 1877. President Grant 
and members of his political family, waiting at the 
Capitol in Washington to sign the last bills of the 

outgoing administration. Standing in front, the second 
on the left, is Secretary of State Hamilton Fish, by far 
the most outstanding man in Grant's Cabinet. 

By midnight of election day, Rutherford Hayes, 
the Republican candidate, went to bed in the belief 
that he had lost the election. But during the night the 
chairman of the Republican congressional committee, 
alerted by the managing editor of the New York 
Times, wired to the party heads in the three carpetbag 
states of Louisiana, South Carolina, and Florida: 
"Hayes is elected if we have carried South Carolina, 
Florida, and Louisiana. Can you hold your state?" 

Counting Louisiana and South Carolina for Hayes, 
the Times gave in its morning edition 184 electoral 
votes for Tilden and 181 for Hayes, leaving the four 
Florida votes in doubt. With 185 votes constituting 
the majority, Tilden needed only one more vote to 
become President. But if the Republicans could 
secure the four Florida votes, Hayes would have the 
185 votes. The struggle for this extra vote kept the 
country in a state of excitement for weeks to come. 
Republicans and Democrats fought for it with great 
vehemence. Not being able to agree, Congress 
formed a special commission which gave the votes to 
Hayes. Thus, the Republican Hayes became President. 


THE BENEFICIAL RESULT of the disputed Hayes-Tilden election was the withdrawal 
of federal troops from Louisiana and South Carolina, the last two carpetbag states. Florida, 
whose returns were disputed as well, was no longer counted as a carpetbag state; eight weeks 
before the new President's inauguration, that state had installed a Democratic governor and 
taken its rightful place with the sister states. 

It was said that the Democrats accepted the verdict of the Electoral Commission only 
after they were promised by the Republicans that the troops would be withdrawn from the 
two remaining Southern states if they would accept Hayes's presidency. Rutherford B. Hayes, 
whom the opposition press from that day on branded as "Rutherfraud" B. Hayes, denied that 
he had any part in the bargain, and it is probable that he hadn't even heard of it. Still, the 
fact remains that not long after assuming office he ordered the withdrawal of the military 
from the South. With this, the era of Radical Reconstruction lasting twelve ignominious 
years came to an end. 

In the above cartoon C. S. Reinhart, a cartoonist for Harper's Weekly, indulged in some 
wishful thinking. He pictures the Democratic party as an old, wailing woman, lamenting 
the fact that the Republican President had stolen her child the South. On the right of the 
drawing, the figure of Columbia thanks Hayes: "Oh, bless you, sir! You've brought us all 
together again." 

In reality the situation turned out to be exactly contrary to this Republican daydream. 
The Republicans had not captured the South far from it. The withdrawal of the federal 
troops resulted in the emergence of the South as the bulwark of the Democratic party from 
that time on. For decades afterward, up to the present, the "Solid South" was in the Demo- 
cratic column, sending Democratic senators and Democratic representatives to Washington. 



H E R F 

'LIES - , , / 
N3MI.' , HL ' / 





Freshman Theodore Roosevelt was not like other Harvard boys. In the 
Harvard of the seventies one had to be orthodox in dress, mannerism, and out- 
look; one had to walk a certain way, one had to speak in a certain manner. 
Theodore did not conform to such patterns. A classmate of his recalled that at 
a time when "it was not considered good form to move at more than a walk, 
Roosevelt was always running." When all others followed the prevailing fash- 
ion of marked indifference, he seemed in a perpetual state of excitement. He 
interrupted professors with questions and critical observations during lectures. 
He read books, not only for examinations but for knowledge. 

He was thought queer, "a good deal of a joke." He did not smoke or drink, 
and he was proud of the fact that at his dining table "no less than seven do 
not smoke and four drink nothing stronger than beer." And to top all this non- 
conformity he taught Sunday school at the Cambridge Episcopal Church. He 
kept these Sunday-school classes until the rector discovered that he was a 
Presbyterian. When told that if he wished to retain his post he must join the 
Episcopal Church, Theodore refused. "I told the clergyman I thought him 
rather narrow-minded; especially as I had had my class for three years and a 
half," but the rector was adamant and so the teaching had to be given up. 

Harvard in 1876 had 821 students. Classrooms and dormitories were con- 
fined to the ivy-walled enclosure the Yard. The college, though at the same 
location as today, appeared to be much farther from Boston, accessible by 
rough-riding and uncomfortable horsecars. And while the area around it was 
growing up rapidly, Cambridge still retained a stiff and somewhat stultifying 
moral atmosphere. 

Theodore was astonished "how few fellows have come here with any idea of 
getting an education." He did well in his studies, though he was not outstand- 
ing by any means. He had to work hard. His selection of courses was conven- 
tional, with science and languages predominant. 

His style was not distinguished. Thomas Perry, his instructor, recalled 
that his "writing was to the point, but did not have the air of cultivation." 

Academically, the greatest disappointment was the manner of teaching 
natural history. During his freshman and sophomore years he had fully in- 
tended to make his career as a naturalist, but by the time of his graduation he 
had abandoned the plan. The reason for this change, as he later explained, was 
that Harvard, like most other colleges, "utterly ignored the possibilities of the 
faunal naturalist, the outdoor naturalist and observer of nature. They treated 
biology as purely a science of the laboratory and the microscope ..." 151 


Before the dream was abandoned, Theodore had added considerably to his 
field knowledge of eastern American fauna. As a freshman he had found 
a fellow nature lover in Henry Davis Minot, a classmate who lived just outside 
Boston in West Roxbury. He and Minot made collecting excursions through 
the Massachusetts countryside, and in the summer of 1877 they journeyed to- 
gether to the Adirondacks for further field studies. The result of this trip was 
the publication (at the young naturalists' expense) of a pamphlet entitled The 
Summer Birds of the Adirondacks in Franklin County. 

Before he left Harvard, Theodore was working on a second publication a 
very different one, reflecting the marked change in his interests. The War of 
1812, he decided, had never been adequately treated by historians, and so he 
decided to make up the deficiency himself. The book that resulted was later 
published, but only two chapters were completed before Theodore's gradua- 
tion. "Those chapters," he later commented, "were so dry that they would 
have made a dictionary seem light reading by comparison." 

If Harvard discouraged his interest in natural history, it did not have a simi- 
lar effect on his athletic interests. By the middle of his freshman year he was 
writing his family that he sparred daily with the boxing master at the college 
gymnasium, and the following year he was entertaining hopes of winning the 
undergraduate lightweight championship. He entered the competition, but, 
after an initial victory, was defeated by a superior contestant who, according 
to a brief item on the sporting page of the New York Times, spent most of the 
match "punishing Roosevelt severely." The same newspaper item described 
the competition as "sparring bouts" a designation that brought a prompt 
and indignant rejoinder from The Harvard Advocate, of which young Roosevelt 
was an editor. The Times, complained the student publication, had apparently 
not understood that the competition consisted solely of "friendly encounters 
between gentlemen." 

Outside of boxing, Theodore was not notably active in Harvard athletics, 
although he participated occasionally in wrestling matches and track events. 

Athletics then as now formed a principal subject of undergraduate conver- 
sation, however, and it is interesting to note that Theodore found this over- 
emphasis distasteful, despite his enthusiasm for the strenuous life. Shortly after 
the start of his sophomors year he wrote to his sister: "My respect for the 
qualities of my classmates has much increased lately, as they now no longer 
seem to think it necessary to confine their conversation exclusively to athletic 
subjects. I was especially struck by this the other night, when, after a couple 
of hours spent in boxing and wrestling with Arthur Hooper and Ralph Ellis, 
it was proposed to finish the evening by reading aloud from Tennyson and we 
became so interested in 'In Memoriam' that it was past one o'clock when we 

He was always fond of poetry. His sister later recalled how he had sent her, 

shortly after the close of his freshman year, Swinburne's poem The Forsaken 

Garden, which he had copied from memory while on a hunting trip in the 

152 Maine woods. He enjoyed reciting Swinburne and Edgar Allan Poe, whose 

poems he was given to chanting "in a strange, rather weird, monotonous tone," 
although he could never really convert his college friends to love his recitations. 

On the whole, the four years at Cambridge were four pleasant years for 
Theodore. It was a gay and social life with dances and parties, with sleigh rides, 
and invitations to the best Boston homes. He grew more fastidious in his at- 
tire, more fashionable in his likes and dislikes. The lyrics of a song in one of 
the undergraduate musical shows described him as "awful smart, with waxed 
moustache and hair in curls." 

While he was at Harvard two great personal events stand out: one was his 
father's death in his sophomore year, the other his engagement to Alice Hath- 
away Lee in the senior year. 

He always loved his family, and he admired his father. Shortly after his ar- 
rival at Cambridge he wrote to him: "I do not think there is a fellow in col- 
lege who has a family that love him as much as you all do me." And in 
another letter he said that it was "perfectly wonderful, in looking back over 
my eighteen years of existence, to see how I have literally never spent an 
unhappy day unless by my own fault, and I am sure that there is no one who 
has a father who is also his best and most intimate friend, as you are mine." 

Thus, when his father died in February 1878, Theodore's whole world 
seemed to crash. He gave himself to grief as to everything with great 
abandon. "It is impossible to tell in words how terribly I miss him," he wrote 
in his diary. "Every event of my life is bound up with him; he was as pure and 
unselfish as he was wise and good." A month after the funeral his gloom was 
no less. "Have been thinking over the many, many lovely memories I have of 
him; had another square breakdown." Throughout his life he preserved the 
letters that his father had written to him. They were his "talisman against evil." 

Slowly, very slowly, he regained his composure. And only when "Sunshine" 
came into his life was his recovery complete. "Sunshine" was the nickname of 
Alice Hathaway Lee, a cousin of his classmate Richard Saltonstall. Theodore 
fell in love with her almost instantly it was his first love. Like all lovers, he 
was convinced that his was the only real emotion in the whole universe. He 
pursued Alice, he spent every free minute with her, he suffered over her 
caprices, endured tormenting and sleepless nights; and when she made him 
happy, he was ecstatic in his happiness. "I have been in love with her for 
nearly two years now, and have made everything subordinate to winning 
her . . ." he wrote. At long last Alice accepted his proposal. 

It was only a year earlier that he had noted in his diary: "Thank Heaven, 
I am at least perfectly pure," and he noted with satisfaction that if he ever got 
engaged, he could tell his fiancee "everything I have ever done." Now he had 
a fiancee. "Truly these are the golden years of my life," he exclaimed. "My 
cup of happiness is almost too full." With Alice "to love me, life will always 
seem laughing and loving." 

They were married on his twenty-second birthday. Theodore entered in his 
diary: "She made an ideally beautiful bride, and it was a lovely wedding. 
Our intense happiness is too sacred to be written about." 153 




J,, rfft-n w+l~~ U admitted to the FaMHMAN Qua hi Harvard 
College, but cw becone candidate for a degree only on condition of pawing tatiifcctor 

tion in the Mwdiei MOMd btlow. 

nti-Ired abmr will lie in 


A ttiidcnt who l.u. 

n nuy obtain its rwnoral, within tfw yw dbr 

hU *trtrw%c, % ocdkmc of Colter* work In the tp*cl.l M bJKt in which he WM cnndlUonid. CK 
dWoM not w rmovwi can be nude up only t the befinning of MHM MbMqumt edMik yMtr, at tfw 
tnnimiiMiHon for MhniMinn, or at weh ^Mcial txamiiMtioiu M may be authoriMd by DM Faculty. 

1876, Theodore Roosevelt was admitted to Harvard 
College as one of the 246 members of the incoming 
freshman class. "I thoroughly enjoyed Harvard," he 
wrote later, "and I am sure it did me good, but only 
in the general effect, for there was very little in my 
actual studies which helped me in after life." 


For four years Theodore's address was 16 Winthrop 
Street, on the corner of Holyoke Street, only two short 
blocks from Harvard Square. His room with four 
windows was on the second floor of the building. 


sports a fashionable beard. "When I entered college, 
I was devoted to out-of-doors natural history, and 
my ambition was to be a scientific man of the Audu- 
bon, or Wilson, or Baird, or Coues type," wrote 
Roosevelt. "My father had from the earliest days in- 
stilled into me the knowledge that I was to work." 


seventies. Theodore's class had many young men who 
later became prominent in public life. Among them 
were William Bushnell Hart, the historian, and 
Robert Bacon, Secretary of State under Roosevelt. 


*4&- to**/}** 


. S 



A LETTER TO HIS SISTER soon after he arrived at Harvard. Theodore thanks Bamie 
for her efforts to fit out his room in such exquisite taste. "Ever since I came here I have 
been wondering what I should have done, if you had not fitted up my room for me. The 
curtains, carpet, furniture in short everything is really beautiful; I have never seen prettier 
or more tasteful wall paper. When I get my pictures and books, I do not think there will 
be a room in College more handsome or comfortable." 

As time passed, he livened up his quarters with decorations of his own. "It was a veritable 
museum," remembered a classmate of Theodore, "with stuffed animals and mounted birds 
perched on desk and table; and here and there a pair of antlers looked down from the wall 
to tell of their owner's prowess in the Adirondacks or in Maine." On one side of the room 
stood a homemade cage which housed despite the landlady's misgivings a transient 
population of live snakes and turtles. 

His schedule was an arduous one, though he had no complaints about it. He usually rose 
at 7:15, went to chapel at 7:45, had his breakfast at 8. From 9 to 12 and from 2:30 to 3:30 
he attended classes. Between lunch and classes he studied; after classes he exercised, stren- 
uously attempting to improve his health and his muscles: he lifted weights, jumped rope, 
he boxed, he rowed, he rode, and in the winter months he skated. He took dinner at 6, and 
after dinner until bedtime, which usually was about eleven o'clock, he studied and read. 
Another of his schoolmates recalled that he could read in the noisiest room, "oblivious to 
all that was going on around him." 

To the undergraduate Theodore seemed queer, eccentric, "a good deal of a joke," ever in 
a hurry, rushing from one classroom to the other. Though his father gave him the advice 
"that, if I was not going to earn money, I must even things up by not spending it," he seemed 
to have resources enough to drive a dogcart and to indulge in expensive pastimes. 

At Harvard, Theodore Roosevelt was somewhat of a snob and somewhat of a prude. "I 
most sincerely wish I knew something about the antecedents of my friends," he wrote. "On 
this very account I have avoided being very intimate with the New York fellows." As an 
example of his righteousness is his entry in his journal after he learned that one of his cousins 
had married a French actress: "He is a disgrace to the family the vulgar brute." And 
the virtuous lad gave praise to the Almighty: "Thank Heaven, I am at least perfectly pure," 


was one of the editors of The Harvard Advocate, the 
monthly literary magazine of the undergraduates. 

THE "BIG SIX/' classmates of Theodore in Har- 
vard. Standing: Richard Saltonstall, whose cousin 
Roosevelt was to marry, Minot Weld, and Theodore. 
Seated: John Tebbets, H. B. Chapin, and Harry Shaw. 

THE O. K. CLUB was another of Roosevelt's affili- 
ations while at Cambridge. Theodore liked com- 
pany, he liked good fellowship; he was a great joiner. 

cellian Club, one of the most exclusive clubs on the 
campus, offered a membership to Theodore and he 
accepted. It was a great honor, as the Porcellian 
took in only eight men from each of the upper 

He also belonged to the Institute of 1770 from his 


sophomore year on, and was a member of the Hasty 
Pudding Club. In his senior year he was president 
of Alpha Delta Phi, treasurer of the O.K. Club, sec- 
retary of the Hasty Pudding Club, vice-president of 
the Natural History Society, an editor of the under- 
graduate magazine The Harvard Advocate, an honorary 
member of the glee club, and to top all these honors 

he was chosen by his classmates as a member of the 
Class Committee. Because of his good marks he be- 
longed to Phi Beta Kappa, which was presided over 
at Harvard by no less a man than Oliver Wendell 
Holmes. The early coolness of his classmates had dis- 
appeared; before his last term had ended, Theodore 
was one of the best-liked fellows at Harvard College. 




By the rctrnhuion* of llu- Fnciiltj I nm directed to print, nt tho end of ont-li Acndoink- Y.-ni-, 
the Mmm of nil omdetili who hn<> atlninod <H>\ eiity |H-r aent of UK- mnxiuiPin mnrk in nil) jitr- 
MfitKxl Italy, or M**itjr-flt(> per ovnl of It in nn\ elit-tlxc -andy, nnd to M-H<| a c|.y of thin pnbliru- 
tlnn to the father or other inuirdiftn of *<ih *tndent A Hut of tbt invmln-rN of tin- f'rmtAttmti 
Cl.t* of 1A70-77 who (Utiiincd cutUy |MT <-out in any prcwrllwl Ntndy, or McntylUi< ( HT rent in 
nm flortivc iitiidy, will bi> found oti tWfcrttiyijiiB |'dc 

IV NtndU |mmupf1b> (f7fftzrt*e+ <e^ in *hlfli ho did not mu,,,, 

lln-M- (M-n-i-iifiiff-s Hill IK- f.miid nmoiitf tl.<o Itrlnw with the ix-m>n(n|ve allnincd li> him In cnoh 

r. .1 WHTTK. 

It'i/mlnir it/' lh< J-ii, !!,, 

Ont.K 1 . . , . 

Rmiutu II. , . ; Fnr.xr.1 IV 

MuiimAti. II ^"^ 


OKKMAK . ( hr ) ; Irtiu* 1 



QrnMAX (Shn.) ' HfAXUii I. 

CMKUI.T.. 1 

OUKKK VI .... 

OrniiAB I | HnHHOiiiiiui Hiirr.mir 

fun..... II 

I.ATIk 1 

OA II . ' rmuttorni IV 

NATINU lli>mT I 


OA* V . Horn lli.T'r (Ntlwlf) 

NAT..N.I lli.Tn.T III 

I.ATIX III . . , . 

VMMVII . . ' Horn llinr'T (d Ulf) 

H ATI ! lll. T o\ VIII 

LATr.1V . . . 

Ktcn 1 llmTOMT 1 

Mi. n I 



Hy tko rognUtionv of tho Faulty 1 m diruoud to print, t the enit of <uwh Aoadamlo Yer, 
the iuniM of nil ntndwtu who hn* mtnliinl ovcnty-flri |>cr oent of the maximum mark In ny 
cltf llvo itutly, or ?vuy por rant in nny |>rortb<<l unly, unit to eend ft copy of thU pnbliontiim 
to the fnther or ntlwr gncrJInn of Mirh ntu.lent A Hut of thci momnvni of tlio fbjthomor* CLAM 
of 1H77-7H who uttftlmtl thc*> |a<n<i<Mtngi>NjMaur ntndy will b found on the following |*gm. 

Tlw nndiu* purauttl by fC~tyQ-r7&v&&~ in whic ' h hc (litl not tui " 

lliow p.-rucntngL's will IMJ found Kin >ng tliMo below with the |iorontnffe ntlAluwl by him in o*uh. 

1ST Hi. t*r wnt on the woik of the 8o|.homoro year i. O>4<r** . V o,,ty. * 2 ''s 


tttffittnr e/<A FtteMty. 

O>M> I 

aiw ii 

OMM IV. .. . 

OlRKKVIII . . . 

OBK*H IX . . . . 
LAT I ... 


LATH III ... . 
LATWIV .... 





MrraiDATict VI. 



tb HMTIWT 111. 
At Iliiroiir IV, 


?nt AITI 11 
Five Ai III 

HIS MARKS IN 1876-77. Roosevelt's best subject 
was German, in which he had 92 per cent, his 
worst was Greek, with a score of only 58 per cent. 

HIS MARKS IN 1877-78. In his sophomore year 
he received 96 per cent in German, 94 per cent in 
rhetoric, but, strangely, only 51 per cent in French. 


When he entered Harvard in the fall of 1876 he was 
one of 246 freshmen. His courses for the first year 
were all prescribed: Latin, Greek, advanced mathe- 
matics, chemistry, and physics. Learning did not 
come easily to him; he had to work hard, particu- 
larly in Greek and mathematics. "I do not seem to 
make headway at all in this," he complained to his 
father. His freshman year was uneventful; he made 
acquaintances and friends, he felt his way./ 

In his sophomore year he found his stride. Now 
Harvard for him was "home." In that year he chose 
German, French, comparative anatomy, and ele- 
mentary botany besides the prescribed rhetoric and 

It was during his second year in college on Feb- 
ruary 10, 1878 that his father died. Theodore, who 
admired and worshiped him, was stricken with grief. 
"I have lost the only human being to whom I told 
everything, never failing to get loving advice and sweet 
sympathy in return." He solemnly vowed that "With 
the help of my God I will try to lead such a life as 
he would have wished." He felt it his duty "to 
study well and live like a brave Christian gentleman," 
so he could be worthy of his father's memory. 




II) tlte regulation* of the Family I am .lintetad to print, at the entof earh Academic \ ear. 
tto nam* of all HudMa ho have attain*! Mvwty.Sra prr <ni of h<> maximum mark In uj 
eh-cthe itudy, or Pffvnt* per cent lu any pmcritod rtudy, ami to cml ropy of Ihu piibluMti<n> 
to lh* falhvr or other guardian of <iirh *tiutait. A lUt of tto mrmUW the JflH/W CLA* of 
IBTM-71 who attained itow porociilagei in any itady will to fouud on thflloinf page*. 

The MudiM parmed ky /*' % tm&V*&> which hp did not attum 

thmv pvretntagi.*, will to fand nmotitf thow toluw with the p^ren.l*^ amluod by him in tacli 

C3T Hit per etat on tk* woiL of the Jaaior yar it &*is- w\Mtjr. Ct**\ *W 8 ? 1 


Vtti MM. Hnmmr II 


In acninlunrr with llu> rrgwlationa of tto Faculty, I tonwith fttt the num.* of ll.o-o <let 
who hat* aitaiued (cvrnty per emt of the manimum mark in any utmly in llw aradomki )oar I8TV-MI. 

Thv itiidiv* parautd by &? VW rv%4*&'' in which to did not allnni 

went> per cent, will to fimnd among UK*C tolow with tto pemmUg* MiaiiMd by him in each. 


Ayfcrrvrr/M. Ktrutty VIII . 

(turn IX 
Km il'n.Miiu. 

IT 111 rg 

MlTHIHAlK* X. . 

PavtiinU . ' . 



tL Ill.Tt.ll | . 
,1 lll,T.,, II . 

HIS MARKS IN 1878-79. Natural history was his 
best subject in his junior year, with 97 and 92 per 
cent. In other subjects he averaged 87 per cent. 

HIS MARKS IN 1879-80. Again he excelled in 
natural history. In political economy he had 78 per 
cent, in Italian 70 per cent, in forensics 65 per cent. 


His whiskers had been shaved off, making him look 
"like a dissolute Democrat of the Fourth Ward," 
with "an expression of grim misery." Anyhow, that 
is how he felt about it. 

The last two years in Harvard were gayer and 
easier than the first two. Theodore's diaries and let- 
ters are full of notations about lovely dinners and 
theater parties, Sunday drives and dancing classes. 
"By Jove," he wrote after a hunting trip to Maine, 
"it sometimes seems as if I were having too happy a 
time to have it last. I enjoy every moment I live, 

On his vacations he either went to Maine or to 
the Middle West, hunting and enjoying the open air. 
But while at college he was busy with his studies, his 
clubs, his natural history specimens, and most of all 
with his love for Alice Lee. 

In his junior year he had, besides English and ele- 
mentary philosophy, political economy, Italian 
literature, geography, and zoology. In his senior year 
he took geology, advanced zoology, Italian, and a 
course in English composition. 

He graduated twenty -first in a class of 161, the 
same rank as Ulysses S. Grant's at West Point. 



For Theodore Roosevelt, girls whom he was fond 
of were "sweet and pretty." This, too, was his first 
impression of Alice Lee, a cousin of his Harvard 
classmate Richard Saltonstall. A day after he met 
her, he noted in his diary that she was "a very sweet, 
pretty girl." The date of the entry was October 18, 
1878. But a year and some months later on Janu- 
ary 30, 1880 he confessed to the same diary: "I 
have been pretty nearly crazy over my wayward, 
wilful darling." Thus Alice had grown from a "pretty 
girl" to a "wilful darling." 

Theodore was in love, in love for the first time in 
his life. He saw Alice whenever he could. He went 
to dances with her, played tennis with her, they 
were at parties together and at outings in the coun- 
try. He was eagerly, relentlessly, passionately pur- 
suing the "one all absorbing object" Alice Lee. 
Pointing to her one day, he said to a friend: "See 

LIFE IN MAINE WAS "BULLY." He went there 
just before his junior year at Harvard, and he fell 
in love with the simple life of the people and the 
beauty of the woods. At Island Falls he formed a 
friendship with Will Sewall, a lumberman and a 
hunter, a friendship lasting till the end of his life. 



Alice on February 13, 1880, to his friend 
Henry Minot, and telling him that he 
should "not speak of it till Monday." 



that girl? I am going to marry her. She won't have 
me but I am going to have her." 

Tormented by his "sweet love," he told his diary 
that when he was alone with her he could "hardly 
stay a moment without holding her in my arms or 
kissing her; she is such a laughing, pretty little 
witch." She was "always present" in his mind: "Not 
an hour has passed that I have not thought of her." 
The months before Alice Lee accepted his proposal 
were months of torture. "Night after night I have^ 
not even gone to bed," Theodore wrote in his 
diary. Then at last it was at the beginning of 1880 
Alice, "my own sweet, pretty darling consented" 
to become Mrs. Theodore Roosevelt. "How she, so 
pure and sweet and beautiful can think of marrying 
me I can not understand, but I praise and thank 
God it is so." With her to love him, "life will always 
seem laughing and loving." 

% / 

A THESIS while Theodore was at Harvard 
sets forth his view that "in the abstract I 
think there can be no question that women 
should have equal rights with men. ..." 

ALICE LEE, the girl with whom Theodore fell in 
love, was five feet seven inches tall, slender, with a 
piquant nose and gay temperament. She was the 
daughter of George Cabot Lee and Caroline Haskel, 
whose elegant and spacious home was situated 
on Chestnut Hill next door to the Saltonstalls. 


o^or^C +o*rZ*~m, 


C*A & 



ON A HUNTING TRIP in the Middle West with 
his brother, Elliott. It was not long before his wed- 

It did. He and his brother Elliott were "travelling 
on our muscle, and don't give a hang for any man.' 

ding that Theodore went West to hunt. To his The boys went as far as Minnesota. Theodore's bag 
mother he wrote that the trip would build him up. on the last trip alone was 203 animals, Elliott's 201. 


C^^C SC iFfl^mfijfljJB IMP ^^BtHftunrafriCT^irpTroi ^VflAfl^MfffffflfT^ 
^sc^*St^s.-rMffat.'ss>#i#rt<4<MZ.'/Metru>!n47 ^Mt/AdidjHttutj 


HIS HARVARD DIPLOMA. On June 30, 1880, 
Theodore Roosevelt, by grace of Harvard College, 
became a Bachelor of Arts. In summing up his four 
years as a college student he wrote: "I have certainly 
lived like a prince. ... I have had just as much 
money as I could spend. ... I have kept a good 

horse and cart; I have had half a dozen good and 
true friends ... a lovely home; I have had but little 
work, only enough to give me an occupation, and 
to crown all infinitely above everything else put 
together I have won the sweetest of girls for my 
wife. No man ever had so pleasant a college course." 


;: ; t ; ; 

There was a fashionable wedding 

at the First Parish Church, on Wednes- 
day of this week, the contracting par- 
ties being Miss Alice H. t daughter of 
George C. Lee, Esq., of Chestnut Hill, 
and Mr. Theodore Roosevelt, of New 
York. The Rev. J. A. Buckingham 
performed the ceremony. A reception 
was held at the residence of the bride's 
parents in the evening, 


,.,, ,. .. : mmm 


HE MARRIED on his twenty-sec- 
ond birthday, October 27, 1880, the 
nineteen-year-old Alice H. Lee, of 
a prominent Boston family. Accord- 
ing to the local newspaper it was 
"a fashionable wedding" in the 
Brookline Unitarian Church with 
Rev. J. A. Buckingham officiating. 


Part 2: 



Theodore Roosevelt was graduated from Harvard in the summer of 1880. 
He married that same fall and with his "devoted little wife" settled down in 
New York, enrolling as a law student at Columbia University. 

In that year the population of Manhattan Island was 1,164,673. New York 
was a metropolis, with part of Broadway lit with the marvel of the era 
electricity. Two more years and Edison's giant dynamos were to supply elec- 
tric current to the blocks between Nassau, Pearl, Spruce, and Wall streets. 
Progress was marching. Three more years and Brooklyn Bridge would be 
ready to use, as would be the new Metropolitan Opera House. And by 1885 
all telegraph, telephone, and cable wires and cables had become such a 
hazard to traffic that they had been ordered to be removed from the streets. 

New York was a city of contrasts: the rich like the Vanderbilts and Astors 
lived in palaces with a galaxy of rooms, some of them large enough to hold 
a gathering of a thousand people, while families on the lower East Side housed 
in a solitary room ten or more human beings. 

The decade of the eighties were years of transition. The forces that had been 
put in motion by the Civil War and the years after came to a sudden fruition. 
In this decade rural, pioneering America changed into an urban, industrial 
colossus. The frontier line was gone; one could no longer push forward into 
virginal, new lands. The passing of the frontier closed one of the primary escape 
valves for our national energy; for want of room to grow on, Americans were 
beckoned toward imperialistic adventures overseas. 

The mushrooming railroads brought an increasing number of settlers to the 
West. Within the eighties the population of Montana, North and South Dakota 
quadrupled and quintupled. With the cattlemen fencing in their lands, the 
era of the open range and the cattle kings came to an end. J. F. Glidden's barb- 
wire fenced in the plains at the rate of some six hundred miles a day. 

The network of the railroads connected the principal cities; "Empire 
Builder" James J. Hill, who started on a shoestring, extended his Great 
Northern system into a vast domain. Americans moved around their country; 
as they crossed the plains they no longer had to fear the Indian menace. 

Men were needed to build, to work, to till the land. The tidal wave of im- 
migrants brought masses of them. During the single decade of the eighties 
5,246,613 men and women landed on our shores. Of Wisconsin's population 
73 per cent were foreign-born; of Minnesota's, 71 per cent. Agents for the big 
industries scoured Europe, luring the workers who were sorely needed in the 
rapidly expanding country. 


The eighties were a dividing line in immigration. Before 1880 immigrants 
had come mostly from northern and western Europe and they usually settled 
in rural areas. But after the eighties, when cheap land became rare, the new- 
comers were forced to try their luck in the cities. Though the immigrants from 
northern and western Europe were still predominant, the number of Italians, 
Hungarians, Greeks, Poles, Russians, Rumanians former inhabitants of 
eastern and southern Europe increased many times. In the decade before, 
in the seventies, only 145,000 immigrants arrived from southern and 
eastern Europe; in the eighties this number jumped to 954,000, only to sky- 
rocket in the nineties to 1,914,000. A decade later this number grew to 
6,224,000, while in the same period the number of immigrants from northern 
and western Europe was only 1,912,000. Many thoughtful citizens worried 
about the new type of immigrant they were fearful that the multitudes 
belonging to the Roman Catholic, Greek Orthodox and Jewish faiths would 
cause radical changes in the life of America. They questioned whether these 
immigrants, many of them with scant knowledge of the English language, 
many of them unable to read and write and with no previous experience with 
the democratic process, would bring benefits to the United States. 

Such rapid changes were bound to bring inequities. For the poor, life was 
a grim struggle for survival; for hard-pressed homesteaders on the dry and 
lonely plains, for exploited workers in the overcrowded New York tenements, 
it was more a chore and a burden than a "pursuit of happiness." 

But for the rich it offered unexpected pleasures. With money to spend and 
leisure to boot, they began to learn how to enjoy their free time and the many 
luxuries their money could buy. Traveling and visiting foreign countries 
became a vogue, as did the elaborate homes both in the city and the country, 
where lavish entertainments were the order of the day. 

America grew at a rapid pace and people grew with it. New inventions 
raised the standard of living and made life comfortable. Burroughs' adding 
machine, Mergenthaler's linotype machine, McCormick's harvester and 
threshing machine, DeLaval's steam turbine and other similar inventions 
brought immense changes in their wake. 

The urgent needs of the masses created millionaires almost overnight. Car- 
negie, Vanderbilt, Rockefeller, Astor, Gould, Fisk to name only some of the 
chosen few amassed enormous fortunes. They made money in a hurry, more 
often than not caring little what happened to the economically weaker in the 
process. The wealthy classes had not yet acquired a social conscience that 
was to come later. When it was suggested to William K. Vanderbilt that it 
might have been wise to run his railroad for the benefit of the people, he blurted 
out: "The public be damned!" And when Jay Gould departed for less lucra- 
tive fields, he left $77,000,000 to his children, having raised to the level of a 
fine art "the methods of acquiring the control and possession of other people's 
property." It took generations before the cumulated fortunes of the robber 
barons found their way back to the people in the form of philanthropic grants. 

Politically the eighties was a period of small men of small vision, a period 


of stagnation. Politicians, as usual, were behind the times; they had no com- 
prehension of the great forces which welded the nation. Many of them were 
bought and dominated by corrupt businessmen, and they sheepishly executed 
the orders of their masters. 

The Republican party turned into the businessmen's party the idealism 
of their beginnings no more a driving force. Divided into "Stalwarts" and 
"Half-Breeds" one supporting Senator Roscoe Conkling, the other Senator 
James G. Blaine the two factions fought each other, not so much on political 
principles, but on how to divide the spoils. 

In the 1884 Republican nominating convention in Chicago, Theodore 
Roosevelt, after having been elected as assemblyman to the New York Legis- 
lature for three consecutive terms, was one of the delegates of his state. There, 
allying himself with other young Republicans, he fought against Elaine's 
nomination; but when Blaine won, Theodore would not join the "mugwumps" 
those reform-minded Republicans who were to vote for Grover Cleveland, 
the Democratic candidate. 

"I intend to vote the Republican presidential ticket," he said to an inter- 
viewer from the Boston Herald. "While at Chicago, I told Mr. Lodge that such 
was my intention; but before announcing it, I wished to have time to think 
the whole matter over. A man cannot act both without and within the party; 
he can do either, but he cannot possibly do both. Each course has its advan- 
tages, and each has its disadvantages, and one cannot take the advantages or 
the disadvantages separately. I went in with my eyes open to do what I could do 
within the party; I did my best and got beaten; and I propose to stand by the 

This was a clear decision a decision which created many adverse com- 
ments. Newspaper writers called Roosevelt a turncoat, a man without char- 
acter, and the abuse grew in intensity when he entered the campaign and 
made speeches on Elaine's behalf. 

But when the election was over and Blaine had lost, Theodore gave his 
reasons to his friend Cabot Lodge. "Every now and then," he wrote, "I meet 
an Independent who, taking it for granted that you and I were actuated by 
selfish motives, points out how much better for ourselves we would have done 
to have bolted. I always surprise him by saying that we have always been very 
well aware of that fact, and knew perfectly well that we had been effectually 
killed as soon as Blaine was nominated. If our consciences would have per- 
mitted it, I have not the slightest doubt that by bolting we could have done 
an immense amount for ourselves, and would have won a commanding 
position at the cost, perfectly trivial in true mugwump eyes, of black treach- 
ery to all our warmest and truest supporters and also at the cost of stultifying 
ourselves as regards all of our previous declarations in respect to the Democracy." 

Thus spoke the man who twenty-eight years later headed the Progressives 
against William Howard Taft, the official candidate of his party. In that 
twenty-eight years Roosevelt had learned a great deal, but had also forgotten 
some of the maxims he knew at the outset of his political career. 



Edison Electric Company opened the first power 
plant in New York to supply current for customers. 

drawing by H. Muhrman of the Wizard of Menlo 
Park title page of Harper's Weekly on August 2, 1879. 

October 19, 1879, when Thomas Alva Edison suc- 
cessfully demonstrated his incandescent lamp. The 
inventor discovered a cheap and durable filament 
for the bulb which allowed the lamp to burn con- 
tinuously for over forty hours thus ushering in the 
electric age. 

At the right of the lamp, Edison drives the gas 
from the filament with electric current. His assistant, 
Francis Jehl, standing on the bench, fills the Sprengel 
pump with mercury. The others in the drawing are 
from left to right, John Kruesi, Martin Force, Lud- 
wig Boehm, Charles Batchelor (the tall man with the 
beard), and Francis R. Upton. 


.-, . j|t 

Edison was a remarkable man. Born in 1847 of 
Dutch and Scottish ancestry, he went to public 
school for no more than three months. When he was 
twelve years old he became a railroad newsboy, sell- 
ing newspapers on the trains of the Grand Trunk 
Railway. Conceiving the idea of bulletin boards at 
the principal stations on his route, he telegraphed 
ahead the important news; thus, when he arrived 
with his papers he sold them quickly. In the baggage 
car of his express train he set and printed the Grand 
Trunk Herald. He also put up a chemical laboratory, 
which he was forced to discontinue when an explo- 
sion set the car afire. About the time he was fifteen 
he found employment in Cincinnati as a telegraph 

operator of the Western Union Company. Saving 
most of his earnings, spending very little on himself, 
he invested all he had in technical experiments. 
Time after time his efforts brought fruit, proving his 
inventive genius. Soon he received a patent for a 
duplex telegraph machine by which two messages 
could be transmitted on the same wire simultane- 
ously. Other successes came. In 1872 he worked out 
a quadruplex system of telegraphy ' by which four 
messages could be sent at one time on a single wire. 
In 1877 he received a patent for his phonograph or 
speaking machine. By 1880, when he was only 
thirty- two years old his name was a household word, 
and his earnings ran as high as $50,000 a year. 



WINTER SCENE on New York's Central Avenue 
near M'Comb's Dam Bridge at the opening of the 
sleighing season. Both young and old enjoyed the fun. 

March, 1880, bringing thousands of New Yorkers to 
the transfer station at Chatham and Division streets. 

IMMIGRANTS LANDING at Castle Gardens. The 
flux of immigrants was still holding. As many as 4,000 
newcomers were received and dispatched in a day. 


was opened to the public on April 1, 1880. It was 
one of the great events of the New York social season. 


"Two dear skates, 

With them wonders she 

And with web and woof 

she'll weave 
Fairy spells you can 

not leave." 


STARVING CHILDREN from the tenements are 
taken by officers of the Society for the Prevention of 
Cruelty to Children to be given a decent meal. 

IN THE ITALIAN QUARTER the Business Men's 
Society distributed free ice water "for the encourage- 
ment of moderation," eagerly taken by all children. 

were about 20,000 subscribers in New York City, 
paying a monthly rental fee of ten dollars a head. 

IRISH DEPOSITORS of the Emigrant Savings 
Bank lining up at the windows to withdraw money 
which they will send to suffering relatives at home. 


in Central Park. In this 
decade the American people 
had more leisure and began 
to learn how to use it. The 
craze was still croquet, 
but other sports like lawn 
tennis, cycling, and arch- 
ery had ardent followers. 





Cornelius Vanderbilt, the former 
ferryboat operator, always looked at 
a penny twice before spending it. 
Even on his deathbed, when his 
doctor suggested champagne to re- 
lieve his discomfort, the old man 
groaned: "I can't afford champagne. 
A bottle every morning! Oh, I guess 
sody water'll do." Beginning to buy 
railroads at the age of sixty-eight, he 
had increased his fortune of ten 
million dollars to more than a hun- 
dred millions before he died. 

His son and heir, William Henry, 
inherited his father's ability to make 
money. Within nine years he dou- 
bled his legacy of ninety million 

With the Commodore's passing, 
William Henry and his son, William 
Kissam, gave up the pretense of 
frugality. Thus the architect Richard 
Morris Hunt was commissioned to 
build a palace on the corner of 
Fifty-second Street and Fifth Ave- 
nue, which when completed looked 
like the Chateau de Blois in France 
and cost three million dollars. 

Alva Smith, the Alabama-born 
wife of William Kissam Vanderbilt, 
had set her heart on conquering the 
hitherto impregnable fortress of 
New York society. When their mag- 
nificent building was completed, 
she planned a housewarming cos- 
tume ball on such a lavish scale as 
had never been held before. Ac- 




cording to the New York Times, the 
costume problem "disturbed the 
sleep and occupied the waking hours 
of social butterflies, both male and 
female, for over six weeks." 

When word reached Mrs. Van- 
derbilt that young Caroline Astor 
and her friends were rehearsing a 
"star quadrille" to be danced at her 
ball, she let intimates of Mrs. Astor 
know that she could not invite Miss 
Astor or her mother because neither 
had paid her a call. For years Mrs. 
Astor, the arbiter of the social set, 
had ignored her; now Alva forced 
her to make a decision. When Mrs. 
Aster's soul searching was over, she 
called for her carriage and, driving 
to the Vanderbilt mansion, sent in 

her calling card, signifying accept- 
ance of the Vanderbilts to the 
rarefied ranks of high society. It 
must have been the greatest tri- 
umph in the life of Alva Vanderbilt. 
Overjoyed, she sent a footman to the 
Astor residence with the last of 
twelve hundred invitations to her 

The ball itself surpassed anything 
in living memory. Costing a quarter 
of a million dollars, it was the great- 
est social event of the age. The 
banker Henry Clews compared it 
with fetes given by Cleopatra, Louis 
XIV, and Alexander the Great, and 
asserted that it was "superior to any 
of those grand historic displays of 



An after-dinner scene in the executive mansion in Washington, the cares of the day forgot- 
ten. President Hayes and family are listening to Carl Schurz's playing; in the background 
John Sherman, Secretary of the Treasury, tests the knowledge of the President's daughter. 

A PARTY IN PHILADELPHIA, given in honor of 
General Ulysses Grant, who was to depart on his 
tour around the world. His host was George W. 
Childs, one of the richest men of the Quaker City. 

FAN DRILL of young ladies of the Lake Erie Sem- 
inary at Painesville on November 18, 1880. On the 
right is James A. Garfield, whom the country had 
elected to the presidency only a few days before. 


THE BICYCLE was introduced in the United States in 1877 by a young lawyer of Boston, 
and ever since then that city has been the headquarters of cycle enthusiasts. From Bos- 
ton the craze for the new vehicle spread to all other large cities except New York, which 
showed little interest in it at first. But when, on the first day of January 1880, the 
American Institute Fair opened a bicycle rink, New Yorkers, too, became addicted to the fad. 



A much debated cartoon by Joseph Keppler, showing 
Senator Roscoe Conkling, the head of the Stalwarts 
(the conservative section of the Republican party), 
leading ex-President Grant to the ball, while Cin- 
derella Hayes is left at the hearth. The Stalwarts 
withheld their support from President Hayes; they 
wanted Grant again. The Half-Breeds (the other 
faction of the party, opposing the Stalwarts) were 
led by Senator James G. Elaine, who desired the 
nomination for himself. In the convention the Stal- 

warts were solidly behind Grant with their 304 votes, 
but Elaine's strength was almost as great. For thirty- 
six times the convention balloted, and though Grant 
kept ahead in the balloting, he could not clinch the 
nomination. To break the deadlock the delegates 
were compelled to settle on a compromise candidate 
Senator James A. Garfield from Ohio. 
And to please the Stalwart faction, Conkling's hench- 
man, Chester A. Arthur, "the gentleman boss" of the 
N. Y. Custom House, was given the vice-presidency. 



leader of the Half-Brceds 
and Grant's chief rival. 
Though accused of unethi- 
cal financial conduct, he 
had strong support among 
the rank and file. Blaine 
was a charming man, a 
good speaker, with a capti- 
vating personality. Nast 
lampooned him as a magnet. 


EX-PRESIDENT GRANT after his triumphal tour 
around the world was ready to enter the political 
arena, seeking the Republican nomination once 
more. He had the unswerving support of the loyal 
Stalwarts, but their enthusiasm and their 304 votes 
were not enough to secure for him the nomination. 



After their wedding the young couple spent a short honeymoon at "Tranquil- 
lity," the Roosevelt's summer place on Long Island. Theodore was in a 
jubilant mood. He confessed to his diary: "It is impossible to describe the 
lovely, little teasing ways of my bright, bewitching darling; I can imagine no 
picture so pretty as her sweet self, seated behind the tea things in the daintiest 
little pink and gray morning dress, while, in my silk jacket and slippers, I sit 
at the other end of the table." 

The happy fortnight at Tranquillity was all too short. From Oyster Bay 
the newlyweds moved to the Roosevelt's New York home at 6 West Fifty- 
seventh Street. Theodore was pondering what he should do. He had some 
money, but not enough. The $125,000 which he had inherited from his father 
gave him a yearly income of $8,000. "I had enough to get bread," he recalled 
later. "What I had to do, if I wanted butter and jam, was to provide the butter 
and jam but to count their cost as compared with other things. ... As I had 
some money I felt my need for more money was to be treated as a secondary 
need, and that while it was my business to make more money where I legit- 
imately and properly could, yet that it was also my business to treat other 
kinds of work as more important than money-making." He decided to enroll 
as a student at Columbia Law School, and he continued to work on his study 
of The Naval War of 1812. 

Not long after he settled in New York, he joined the Twenty-first District 
Republican Club because "a young man of my bringing up and convictions 
could join only the Republican party." That both his uncle and father-in-law 
were good Democrats was brushed aside. By the end of the year he was 
a regular attendant of the monthly meetings in Morton Hall, "a large barn- 
like room over a saloon" at Fifth Avenue and Fifty-ninth Street. For Theodore 
a new world opened its doors a world of spittoons, of cigar smoke, of coarse 
stories told by florid ward heelers, alien and distasteful, yet fascinating. That 
the political arena lured him is easy to comprehend. He always tried to 
fashion himself after his father, follow his example, and accept public service 
as the elder Roosevelt did. Theodore, with his keen moral sense, looked with 
contempt on those educated people who "shrink from the struggle and the 
inevitable contact with rough politicians." 

The following summer the summer of 1881 with his future still clouded 
in uncertainty, he took his bride to Europe his third trip abroad and her 
first. Although Alice suffered miserably from seasickness on the way over, she 
regained her spirits upon landing, and the couple made an idyllic tour across 



the British Isles and thence to Paris, Venice, the Alps, the Rhineland, and the 
Low Countries "The loveliest trip I have ever had," exclaimed Theodore. 
It was like all Roosevelt trips a strenuous tour, particularly in Switzerland, 
where the young American, challenged by two English climbers who were stay- 
ing at the same hotel in Zermatt, made the difficult ascent of the Matterhorn. 

When the belated honeymooners returned to New York in September, Theo- 
dore expected to resume his law studies, but events at the Twenty-first 
District headquarters were conspiring to chart his course in another direction. 
Jacob Hess, an affable German who was Republican boss of the district, was 
being challenged by a lieutenant named Joseph Murray, an ex-Tammany 
Irishman who had taken a liking to young Roosevelt. Although he declined 
when first approached, Theodore finally consented to be Murray's candidate 
for nomination to the state Assembly. At the nominating caucus, preceded by 
some adroit politicking on the part of Murray, he prevailed over the incum- 
bent, William Trimble, the choice of Hess and the party regulars. 

So Roosevelt, at twenty-three, began a career to which he remained true 
till the end of his life. His friends were doubtful whether he had made the right 
decision, while his new political associates were downright amused. There is a 
story that during the campaign Theodore told an influential German saloon- 
keeper on Sixth Avenue that, in his opinion, the liquor license should not be 
lowered but raised. "I don't think you pay enough. I thought it would be at 
least twice as much," he said with conviction, whereupon the district leaders 
hustled him away and advised him to confine his campaigning to "the college 
boys and his friends on Fifth Avenue." They said it would be better if he would 
stay away from the less fashionable neighborhoods; they themselves would see 
that these people cast their votes in the proper way meaning for the Repub- 
lican candidate. Thus Theodore won the election by the handsome margin of 
3,490 votes to 1,989 of his Democratic opponent. The New York Evening Post 
congratulated the district on electing a man of independent means who 
"doesn't need to trim to suit the bosses." 

On the first day of January 1882 Theodore Roosevelt set out for Albany to 
assume his legislative duties. He wore eyeglasses which dangled on a silk cord, 
and he sported an enormous overcoat. His colleagues in the legislature thought 
him a dude "the way he cpmbed his hair, the way he talked the whole 
thing." His high-pitched, squeaky voice seemed out of place in the Assembly 
chamber; his accent and his manners seemed so different from those of the 
other lawmakers. But when a few weeks later the young assemblyman boldly 
introduced a resolution demanding an investigation of Judge Theodore West- 
brook of the New York Supreme Court, those who ridiculed him had a rude 
awakening. Westbrook, so Roosevelt charged, had joined in a conspiracy to 
give Jay Gould and other "stock-jobbers" control of the Manhattan Elevated 
Railway Company in a maneuver that ruined many innocent investors. The 
bluntly worded resolution was greeted by appalled silence and an immediate 
motion to table. By persistence and parliamentary maneuver, however, 
Roosevelt brought it to a vote, and the pressure of public opinion forced the 


Assembly to approve it. As expected, the Judiciary Committee absolved the 
judge, but the controversy skyrocketed Roosevelt's reputation as a crusading 
young "comer" who was not afraid to take on the wealthiest and most power- 
ful citizens of his time. 

His Democratic uncle helped him to secure a seat on the Committee 
on Cities, where his alertness in detecting venal legislation soon prompted the 
New York Herald to call him "a watchdog over New York's treasury." 

The bills he introduced during this term were as varied as his interests. The 
first one "to reorganize the local government of the City of New York" by 
changing the methods of the election of aldermen was passed; others like 
the bill "to provide for a sufficient supply of pure and wholesome water for 
the city of New York," the bill proposing the establishment of a public park 
in the Twenty-fourth Ward, or the bill dealing with "the killing and wounding 
of pigeons, fowls, birds, and other animals" came to nothing. About his bill to 
change the method of electing aldermen, the New York Times said (Feb. 24, 
1882) that it was "a very desirable end, the weakening namely, of the power 
of the party machine and the protection of the rights of voters." Roosevelt ex- 
plained, "In New York, where the nominating power is so largely divorced 
from the mass of the voters of the same party, it is peculiarly necessary to have 
the machinery of elections easily understood by outsiders, and, moreover, to 
enable the people who vote to pass as directly as possible upon the candidates 
proposed by the people who nominate. The present system is so complicated 
that nine-tenths of the voters do not understand it at all. Out of my six 
Republican colleagues among the New York Assemblymen, three did not know 
anything about our Aldermanic representation. I question if one in ten of my 
constituents is aware of the real working of so called minority representation . . ." 

The regular Republicans were sullen; they had no use for Theodore's inde- 
pendent spirit. "Old Salt" Alvord, an assemblyman from Syracuse, remarked 
bitterly that his party had sixty and one half members in the Assembly, sixty 
regular ones and "that damn dude." But the New York Times was of other 
opinion. Said the newspaper: "Mr. Roosevelt has a most refreshing habit of 
calling men and things by their right names, and in these days of judicial, 
ecclesiastical, and journalistic subserviency to the robber barons of the Street 
it needs some little courage in any public man to characterize them and their 
acts in fitting terms." 

And Roosevelt, disregarding the regulars' hostility, poured his venom not 
on them, but on the opposition. He said that "over half the Democrats, 
including almost all of the City Irish, are vicious, stupid looking scoundrels." 
Furthermore so he went on "the average Catholic Irishman of the first 
generation, as represented in this Assembly, is a low, venal, corrupt and 
unintelligent brute." When he made that speech he was twenty-three years old. 

His first-term record was good enough to secure his re-election in the fall of 
1882 by a two-to-one majority, a great victory, enhanced by the fact that in 
that election Grover Cleveland, the Democratic party's gubernatorial candi- 
date, carried the Twenty-first District. Back in Albany at the start of the 1883 


session, the "Young Reformer" was his party's nominee for the post of Speaker 
a singular distinction, although an empty one in a Democratic-controlled 
Assembly, which would elect a Democratic Speaker. Nevertheless, the honor 
placed Roosevelt at the head of his party. He became known, his name was 
frequently mentioned in newspapers, his efforts in the Assembly for a better 
government acknowledged. On the very day he made his principal speech of 
the canvass for re-election (it was a day after his twenty-fourth birthday) Carl 
Schurz, one of the founders of the Republican party, said of Roosevelt that he 
was one of the "three almost beardless youths who proved to be the exponents 
of the power and honesty of the City of New York," and who in the Assembly, 
almost alone, had "stemmed the tide of corruption in that fearful legislative 
gathering." Theodore was not less pleased with himself than was Schurz. "I 
rose like a rocket," he declared. 

In the winter of 1882-83, Theodore and Alice moved from the Roosevelt's 
residence to their own apartment at 55 West Forty-fifth Street. Theodore 
described his happiness in the new surroundings. "Back again in my own lovely 
little home," he once wrote, "with the sweetest and prettiest of all little wives 
my own sunny darling. I can imagine nothing more happy in life than an evening 
spent in my cozy little sitting room, before a bright fire of soft coal, my books 
all around me, and playing backgammon with my own dainty mistress." 

His second term started off well. In close co-operation with the Democratic 
governor of the state and in disregard of the patronage-minded organization 
men in both parties, he threw himself into the successful fight for a state civil- 
service bill. Cartoons pictured him and Grover Cleveland as allies, independent 
critics cited him for his willingness to ally himself with Democrats when he 
believed the end to be just. He was applauded by his few friends and abused 
by his many enemies when he showed strength of character in confessing an 
error and reversing himself openly. The issue was a bill reducing from ten cents 
to five the fares on Jay Gould's Manhattan Railway. Roosevelt at first supported 
the bill in response to a popular clamor against Gould, whom he hated. But 
when Governor Cleveland vetoed it on the grounds that it was an unconstitu- 
tional violation of the terms of the railway franchise, Roosevelt took the floor 
to support him, admitting "with shame" that he had been partly motivated 
by "a vindictive spirit toward the infernal thieves and conscienceless swindlers 
who have had the elevated railroad in charge" and partly by "the popular 
voice of New York." He called Jay Gould and his cohorts "part of that most 
dangerous of all dangerous classes, the wealthy criminal class." For this coura- 
geous admission of error, Roosevelt was labeled a "weakling" by the New York 
Sun, while the Evening Star of Boston called him a communist and a "bogus 
reformer" whose career would soon be over. 

The criticism Roosevelt received on this issue became even sharper a week 
later, when he delivered a bitter speech and resigned from the Committee on 
Privileges and Elections after the Assembly denied his friend, Representative 
Sprague, a contested seat. He said in a scathing attack on the Democrats: "You 
can take the record made by their party now in the House; the shameless 


partisanship they have displayed; the avidity they have shown for getting con- 
trol of even the smallest offices; the way they have endeavored to legislate 
Republicans out of office and put their own members in. . . ." Here was the 
self-righteous politician to whom everything the opposition attempted was evil, 
while he regarded the faults of his own party as only unintentional mistakes. 
The New York Observer called him "very silly and sullen and naughty" and 
said: "When young Mr. Roosevelt finished his affecting oration, the House 
was in tears of uncontrollable laughter." Roosevelt himself (writing to his 
son many years later) admitted: "I came an awful cropper and had to pick 
myself up after learning by bitter experience the lesson that I was not all- 
important and that I had to take account of many different elements in life. 
It took me fully a year before I got back the position I had lost, but I hung 
steadily at it and achieved my purpose." 

Besides his support of the civil-service reform bill in the 1883 session, he 
introduced a bill to control the liquor traffic by raising the license fees, intro- 
duced a bill "to provide for the infliction of corporal punishment upon male 
persons" (public whipping of any male who "inflicted brutal or unusual pain 
or violence upon the person of a female or a male under fourteen years of age"), 
and spoke against an appropriation for a Catholic protectory ("no state funds 
should be granted to a religious sect"). 

In September of 1883 he went to the Dakotas on a hunting trip, getting his 
first taste of buffalo and of the grandeur of the Bad Lands. On his return he 
campaigned for the third term in the Assembly and was once more re-elected 
by a thumping majority of 1 ,200. It was a Republican year, with Republicans 
recapturing both the House and the Senate. Roosevelt expected to become 
the Speaker of the Assembly, but in a wild backstage battle the organization 
Republicans and corporate lobbyists joined forces and blocked his bid. As the 
New Year dawned the year of 1884 the New York Sun prophesied that 
"this will not be a happy New Year to the exquisite Mr. Roosevelt." 

It was indeed a tragic year but not because of anything that happened in 
the Assembly. On Wednesday, February 13, two telegrams reached him in 
Albany: the first told him that Alice had given birth to a daughter; the second, 
that his wife's health had taken a turn for the worse. He rushed to New York. 
A day later both Alice and his mother were dead. 

For Roosevelt the double shock was almost too much to bear. An old friend 
wrote on the day of the funeral that "Theodore is in a dazed, stunned state. 
He does not know what he says or does." 

But four days later he was back in Albany addressing the Assembly on 
behalf of a bill to strengthen municipal government in Manhattan. In the fol- 
lowing month seven of his nine reform bills passed the Assembly. With admir- 
able self-discipline he immersed himself in his work, kept on with his duties. 
"I have never believed it did any good to flinch or yield to any blow," he wrote 
to a friend, "nor does it lighten the blow to cease from working." So he kept 
on with his tasks, pushing himself harder than ever before. "I think I should 
go mad if I were not employed." 




He gave his age as twenty-two, his college as Har- 
vard, his address as 6 West 57th Street in New York 
City. In his college years he had pondered what 
he should become hesitating at first between 
natural history and the law. Of the legal profession he 
thought that it required "less prolonged mental ef- 
fort than some others and especially fitted for 'the 
weaker sex.'" But by March 1880, not long after 
his engagement to Alice, his mind was made up: "I 
shall study law next year, and must there do my best 
and work hard for my own little wife." 

He enrolled in Columbia Law School, then at 8 


Great Jones Street, and he used to make the three- 
mile distance from his home on 57th Street to the 
downtown area on foot. 

Roosevelt was probably a good and conscientious 
student, though we have no record of the work he 
did; he left law school long before his biennial ex- 
amination. His heart was not in the work. In his 
Autobiography he explained: "If I had been sufficiently 
fortunate to come under Professor Thayer, of the 
Harvard Law School, it may well be that I would 
have realized that the lawyer can do a great work for 
justice and against Icgalism. But doubtless chiefly 



through my own fault, some of the teaching of the law 
books and of the classroom seemed to me to be 
against justice." 

Theodore felt that the "let the buyer beware" 
maxim was wrong, because the seller made a profit 
at the expense of the buyer "instead of by bargain 
which shall be to the profit of both," and he con- 
cluded his observations with this pertinent thought: 
"If I had been obliged to earn every cent I spent, I 
should have gone wholeheartedly into the business 
of making both ends meet, and should have taken 
up the law or any other respectable occupation." 







V o 

x< AC 











Every good eitteen has cause for rejoicing 

' that the Republican! of the Tweniy-first Assembly 
Distrle* hare united mpon to admirable a eaadi- 
date for the Assembly as Mr. TnoDoxxBoosxrzLT. 
The district Is not only a large and populous one, 

I but itt citizen* include many substantial property 
owners who need a representattTe at Albany who 
oan appreciate the responsibility of the position. 

I Kr. Boourviff need* no introduction to Mis con- 
ititnenoy. Hie family has been long and honorably 

| cnown aa one of the f oremoct in this City, and Mr. 
KoonsYBiff himself is a publio-ipirlted citizen, not 
an office-seeker, but one of the men who should bo 
ought for office. Opposed to Mr. BOOSXVXLT Is 
Dr. W. VT. STBBW, formerly In charge of the Luna- 
tloAtylum on BlaokweU's Island. It Is perhaps 
onneoessary to say more of this man. who has been 
Indorsed by the Democratic tribes of the district, 
.than that he was removed from his position upon- 
theTerdiotof a committee of physicians, who re- 
carded him as lacking in administrative abil- 

lity. The absurdity of making a comparison 

I In this instance must be apparent, and it 
is obvious that the judgment of the men 

f who approved Dr. STBBW'S dismissal for in- 
Competency ought to be a fatal objection to his 
ilection to the Assembly. The district is natural- 
y Republican, and in the present contest, all fao- 
*ons having united in Mr. BOOSBTVLT'S nomina- 
tion, he may rely upon a handsome majority. He 
will furnish to the Assembly a representative from 
Ihis City absolutely free from pledges and one 
ready at all times to act upon bills affecting the 
Municipal Government as a citizen and not simply^ 

, %s a politician. 

day after his twenty-fourth birthday that Theodore 
Roosevelt entered political life by announcing his 
candidacy for the legislature. The New York Times 
nodded approval. "Every good citizen has cause for 
rejoicing that the Republicans of the Twenty-first 
Assembly District have united upon so admirable a 
candidate for the Assembly as Mr. Theodore Roose- 
velt/' said the first editorial mentioning his name. 


ded with comfortable mansions. The northern boun- 
dary of the city ran around 59th Street. To the west 
New York extended as far as Eighth Avenue, while 
on the east, toward the river, the rows of houses were 
denser. But even there one could find bucolic scenes 
with acres and acres of woodland. On both sides of 
Central Park shanty towns grew up as the poor built 
crude huts of stolen or discarded material. 

Fifth Avenue was Roosevelt's street. He walked it 
in summer and winter. He walked to his law school 
on Lafayette Place, he walked to the Astor Library 
nearby, and he walked to his home on 57th Street. 



Tim Btt'i BipitUeu AiMtiatin, 

A special meeting of this Association will be 
held at Morton Hall, No. 8 Eaat 59th Street, on 
Thursday Evening, November 3d, 1881 , at 8 o'clock, 
for the purpose of ratifying the nomination of our 
fellow-member, THEODORE ROOSEVELT, for member 
of Assembly. A full attendance is earnestly re- 


RATIFICATION MEETING was called by the 
Young Men's Republican Association, 21st District. 


MEN WITH MONEY offered Theodore campaign 

^ M .-:u..4.: T u u ni *- ti i i 

and celebrated lawyer-diplomat, was one of them. 

^3 VrcCl* < c^ci>-t-x 


Young Mr. Roosevelt of New York. & 
young man with eyeglasses. English 
whiskers, aud Dundreary drawl in his ] 

effort as an orator. He ob- 
jected to Mr. HIckman's talk of Republican aid 
for the Democrats. When he aaid that it was 

waa broken 
his auaint 
r r-e-M-e-v-e-d." 

or ft not,. ." In. fact. 

THE TWENTY-THREE- YEAR-OLD assemblyman from New York's 
21st District. Theodore won the election with 3,490 votes against William 
W. Strew, his Democratic opponent's 1,989, and with this victory his true 
profession of politics began. At the time this photograph was taken, Roose- 
velt made his maiden speech in the chamber at Albany, which the New York 
Sun reported with the few lines above. About a week later on January 30, 
1882 in Hyde Park, N.Y., a distant cousin of his was born, a boy of whom 
the country and the world was to hear more Franklin Delano Roosevelt. 


ffDA \f1C1 T\f n 



demanding an investigation of Judge Wcstbrook. 




*J|M 'JAk^ ^VMhftMvt^ lEUIlllfl' -jfi^' 

ta* " 

'_ ^ . J > A - A^^. 

ittlTBItqpBW '- MM 

p, fo '*-. 
on Ottte 

^Qff\ jRi|M^' 

York durfa* Jfc* WMPffan, WM btfd, 

'Of tl 









27 * 2Q WEST 23D STRICT 

A PAT ON THE BACK by the Evening Post on 
June 3, 1883, praising Roosevelt, who had "accom- 
plished more good than any man of his age and 
experience has accomplished here in recent years." 

HIS FIRST BOOK appeared in 1882, when he was 
only twenty-two years old. He began working on The 
Naval War of 1812 while he was at Harvard, but the 
bulk of the work was done after his marriage to Alice. 


For Theodore Roosevelt the rough-and-tumble of practical politics was a challenge. From 
the very first day January 2, 1882 when he arrived in Albany to assume his legislative 
duties, the old-time political hacks looked at him with amazement and amusement. There 
was a "perfect dude," complete with Harvard accent, hair parted in the middle, and a pair 
of eyeglasses suspended from a black silk cord. A newspaperman mused: "What on earth 
will New York send us next?" But soon, very soon, both the politicians and the newspaper- 
men realized that the young man must be taken seriously. The "damn dude" boldly 
pressed for the investigation of Judge Theodore Westbrook of the New York Supreme 
Court, charging the judge with conspiracy to ease the control of the Manhattan Elevated 
Railway Company into the hands of Jay Gould and his cohorts. Although the judge was 
absolved of the charges, Roosevelt's reputation as a courageous crusader for clean govern- 
ment had been established. 

In the succeeding fall he was re-elected to the Assembly with a walloping two- to-one 


.c-.d^nd Prlc. St. 


ELECTION EXPENSES as Theodore Roosevelt 
wrote them out, listing carefully the sums which 
he paid out during his 1882 campaign, when he ran 
for re-election to the New York State Assembly. 

SECOND PAGE of the election expenditures. His 
share of expenses at polls, including boxes, district 
captains, watchers, at $10 per district, came to $250. 

t l''#Mgjj^ 
$ , 


" ' "- Jria ..jj. .... ^.^-..^^ 

NATIONAL GUARDSMAN Roosevelt was com- 
missioned a second lieutenant in B Company of New 
York's Eighth Regiment on August 1, 1882, and was 
promoted in the following year to the captaincy. 

majority, and such was the respect of his party for him that it named him for the post of 
Speaker an honor, though nothing else in the Democratic-controlled Assembly. 

During his second term "the young reformer" fought valiantly for the state Civil Service 
Bill, allying himself with the Democrats. It was during this term that his attitude toward 
social legislation underwent a change. Originally Roosevelt had no comprehension of the 
workingman's lot. He called a bill which was to limit the working day of streetcar 
employees to twelve hours a "purely socialistic" measure. He fought against wage increases 
for public employees, and he fought labor leaders who, in his opinion, seemed "the worst 
foe of the poor man" because they tried to teach him "that he is a victim of conspiracy and 
injustice." But when the labor leader Samuel Gompers persuaded him to visit the crowded 
sweatshops in the tenements and see with his own eyes the frightful conditions, he was 
shocked by the human degradation, and he supported the bill which forbade cigar making 
in New York tenement houses. 

On April 16, 1884, a New York Times headline read: "A big day for Roosevelt. Seven of 
his reform bills passed by the Assembly." It was one of the crowning achievements of his 
three terms as Assemblyman at the legislature in Albany. 


14. AUce 

ral on SatutxJay 


that no 

"THERE IS A CURSE ON THIS HOUSE. Mother is dying and Alice is dying too." Thus 
spoke Elliott Roosevelt to his brother as Theodore arrived at 6 West 57th Street around 
midnight February 13, 1884. Theodore rushed to his wife, who on the previous day had given 
birth to their first child a girl. By three o'clock in the morning Theodore's mother 
was dead; Alice, suffering from Bright's disease, died at two o'clock the next afternoon. 


She was born at Chestnut Hill, Massachusetts, 
on July 29, 1 86 1 ; I first saw her on October 18, 
1878, and loved her as soon as I saw her sweet, 
fair young face ; we were betrothed on January 
25, 1880, and married on October 27th, of 
the same year ; we spent three years of happi- 
ness such as rarely comes to man or woman ; 
on February 12, 1884, her baby girl was 
born ; she kissed it, and seemed perfectly well ; 
some hours afterward she, not knowing that 
she was in the slightest danger, but thinking 
only that she was falling into a sleqp, became 
insensible, and died at two o'clock on Thursday 
afternoon, February 14, 1884, at 6 West Fifty- 
seventh Street, in New York ; she was buried 
two days afterward, in Greenwood Cemetery. 

She was beautiful in face and form, and 
lovlier still in spirit ; as a flower she grew, and 
as a fair young flower she died. Her life had 


been always in the sunshine ; there had never 
come to her a single great sorrow ; and none 
ever knew her who did not love and revere her 
for her bright, sunny temper and her saintly 
unselfishness. Fair, pure, and joyous as a 
maiden ; loving, tender, and happy as a young 
wife; when she had just become a mother, 
when her life seemed to be but just begun, 
and when the years seemed so bright before 
her then, by a strange and terrible fate, death 
came to her. 

And when my heart's dearest died, the light 
went from my life for ever. 


"AND WHEN MY HEART'S DEAREST DIED, the light went from my life for ever." 
Thus wrote Theodore in his privately printed memorial about his wife, Alice Hathaway Lee 
Roosevelt. This sentiment was the last he uttered about her; ever after, he was silent about 
his "Sunshine." Never again did he mention the name of Alice, not even to their daughter. 





y <**$!..,., . . . .'r-,4 ;,*>.''., , 

*'.<^,,'; *i-;'x ; ; ' ; . ".>.. .-. .V%. '-. *"; 
'^^ V :::' ;; ;:.f' ; "/V; v ^ik 



The artist Thomas Nast drew the first two Roosevelt cartoons, praising him for his fight 
for New York's Civil Service bills and for working closely with the state's Democratic gov- 
ernor, Grover Cleveland. Both cartoons appeared in Harper's Weekly in the spring of 1884. 
The first shows Roosevelt as "Our New Watchman," with Cleveland observing from the 
window; the other is of "Governor Cleveland and Theodore Roosevelt at their good work." 



James G. Blaine, the Republican candidate, is drawn 
as Phryne, the Greek hetaera who was charged with 
impiety and was defended by one of her lovers, 
securing her acquittal by exhibiting her loveliness. 

Elaine's personal honesty was stained by shady 
deals. The so-called "Mulligan letters" were strong 
indictment that he had been guilty of accepting 
gratuities from the Little Rock Railroad of Arkansas. 

A prominent candidate in 1876, he had been pre- 
sented as "an armed warrior" and as "a plumed 
knight." However, in that convention the nomina- 
tion went to Rutherford B. Hayes. Four years later 
Blaine was again in the race, but lost out after 

thirty-six ballots to James A. Garfield. And now in 
1884 he was once more the foremost candidate. 

This time in spite of all the opposition from the 
reform and liberal groups he was nominated amidst 
cheering that was "fully as deafening as the voice of 
Niagara." Roosevelt and his young friends fought 
against Blaine in the convention, but their efforts 
were doomed to failure. 

Blaine was, more than any other politician, typical 
of the era. A practical wirepuller, personable, oppor- 
tunistic, and a man of loose ethics, editor Godkin 
said of him that he "wallowed in spoils like a 
rhinoceros in an African pool." 



!! M Win * : 

ST. PAUL, June 9.-The Hon. Theodore 
Boossvslt of New York spent Sunday ia this 
city, on his way to the Montana ranch. 
Speaking of the issues of the Chicago (tarna- 
tion, Mr. Boossrslt said: 

" Tjio platform is an admlraitft ons. as strong 
aa the party has had sines the old war 'days. 
It will gain thousands of votes all over the 
country. Boaroslya Republican or Indspead- 
ant bat must endorse it .heartily. The Demo- 
cratic party must follow, in the main, our 
platform or fire up the fight. I did not favor 
either Blaine or Arthur. My preference was 
Edmund.. Aside from his own ^ ~' 




tion, against Blaine Was possible. Had 
I not been so posltjvsly for Edmunds. 
I don't know but I would have been 
carried away myself by the contagion and 
found myself throwing up my hand for Blaine, 
Blaine IB the choice of two-thirds of the rank 
and file of the party. I shall bolt the nomina- 
tion of the Oonvention by no means. I have no 
personal objections to Blaine. I think you will 
find there will be no fatal disaffection. I be- 
lieve Blaine will be elected. Ho will sweep the 
West and Ohio and will carry all New England. 

I havo been called u reformer, but I 


No one to-d 

I do not think it iinpowiblo for BJainn to carry 

it. I do not beliovn there will ' ~ ' 

een calle u reformer, but I nm a e- 
n. It ia too early to 8tv*Mk of New York. 
to-day can toll how that Hint* will vote. 

dnnt candidate. 

be an Indepen- 

Those who will not vote a Re- 

publican ticket will stay away from the polls. 
As to the bolt of the New York Tinw. I am in- 
clined to think that it would support -either 
Cleveland or Dorshoimer if nor ' ' " - - 


nominated by the 




After his nomination the revolt against Blaine 
spread. Republican newspapers refused their support 
(the New York Times was one which left its close Re- 
publican affiliation, never to return again); reform 
clubs and independent committees "united to rebuke 
corrupt men and corrupt methods in politics." And 
when the Democrats named Grover Cleveland, the 
progressive-minded and reform-conscious candidate, 
many Republicans called "mugwumps" bolted 
their party and lined up behind him. 

The votes of these "mugwumps" helped Cleve- 
land into the presidency though he won it by only 
a slight margin. 

Tboradaj Afternoon, June !! IBM. 


The Evening Post telegraphed to Theodore 
Boose velt oo Tuesday : 

"A Bt Paul despatch reports yon as saying 
the Republican platform Is admirable ; tiurt you 
will not bolt; that you have no personal objec- 
tion to Mr. BlaJLne ; that Mr, Blaine will sweep 
the West and Ohio, carry an New England, and 
yon do not think it impossible to carry New 
Vork. Does this represent what you hsye 
said ?" 

To this was received the following answer 
" MEDOKA. Dak., June 12. 

" To my knowledge bad no interriew for pub- 
lication ; never said anything like what you re- 
port. May have said I opposed Blaine for pub- 
lic reasons not personal to myself. 


did little to change the impression his original words 
had created. He would not turn into a "mugwump." 


THE REPUBLICAN INDEPENDENTS. A biting comment in The Judge. "This is the 
third time," reads the caption, "they have marched around. There are about nine of 
them, not ninety thousand." This was untrue. There were enough Independents who 
were to vote for the Democratic Grover Cleveland to make him President. Theodore 
Roosevelt (the second on the riht) is behind the banner of the New York Times and 
is followed by Carl Schurz, Henry Ward Beecher, and George W. Curtis, editor of Harper's 
Weekly. As one of the leaders of the Independents, Roosevelt worked against Elaine's 
nomination in the 1884 convention; but when the nomination became a reality he 
did not bolt the party and support Cleveland. "I intend to vote the Republican presiden- 
tial ticket," said Roosevelt to a reporter of the Boston Herald. "A man cannot act both with- 
out and within the party; he can do either, but he cannot possibly do both." He left the 
Chicago convention "full of heat and bitterness." (The World, June 27, 1884.) But when he 
reached St. Paul he told a newspaperman that he would support Blaine. To his incredulous 
friends Roosevelt explained that he was a Republican and would not vote otherwise. He 
even spoke for Blaine in the campaign, saying "The man is not everything; the party is 
most of all." 

However, the country elected Grover Cleveland, though the change of a mere 600 New 
York votes would have given the election to Blaine. The victory left Roosevelt in a political 
no man's land. He was distrusted by Republicans and Democrats alike; his future looked bleak. 




The first time Roosevelt went to the Bad Lands it was to test his hunting 
prowess against the vanishing buffalo herd. Traveling the newly completed 
Northern Pacific Railroad to Little Missouri, a small frontier town named 
after the bordering river, he took on a guide and set up headquarters at the 
outpost cabin of Gregor Lang, manager for an absentee owner of a large cattle 
herd. Joe Ferris, his guide, at first took a condescending attitude toward the 
non-smoking, non-drinking "four-eyed" Eastern tenderfoot, who was given to 
exclaiming "By Godfrey!" But when Roosevelt was up every day at the crack 
of dawn ready to start the day's hunting, Ferris's attitude toward him changed 
to respect. In the evenings, when the hunters returned to the cabin, instead of 
piling into his bunk as Ferris did, Roosevelt would stay up into the early 
hours talking with the Langs about the wonders of the western country. And 
before forty-eight hours had passed, Roosevelt had decided to become a cattle 
rancher in the Bad Lands. 

The buffalo hunt was successful. Roosevelt conservationist instincts appar- 
ently undisturbed by the bisons* near extinction finally managed to bring 
down a handsome bull, an event which he exuberantly celebrated by doing 
an Indian war dance and presenting a hundred dollars to his guide. Shortly 
thereafter he headed East. But before he boarded his train, he committed 
himself to becoming a partner with William Merrifield and Sylvane Ferris in 
the Maltese Cross ranch on the Little Missouri. 

A year later in 1884 when he returned to the Bad Lands in the wake of 
personal tragedy and political disappointment his wife had died in February, 
his fight against Elaine's nomination in the Chicago convention unsuccessful 
he found Little Missouri overshadowed by Medora, a bustling outpost across 
the river. Medora, which had grown from four buildings to eighty-four during 
his absence, was the handiwork of the Marquis de Mores, a colorful French 
adventurer who had married Medora von Hoffman, the daughter of a rich 
New York banker, and named the settlement after her. De Mores, who hoped 
to expand his fortune by cattle raising, attempted to lord it over the country- 
side, picking fights with everyone in sight. His Gallic temperament even 
threatened to involve him with Roosevelt in a duel. Fortunately for Theodore, 
who was de Mores' inferior in marksmanship, the combat never took place. 

Roosevelt now invested an additional $26,000 in cattle, besides the $14,000 
to which he had committed himself before, and selected the site for a second 
ranch the Elkhorn in a more remote location. To build and manage it he 


brought West the two guides, Bill Sewall and his nephew, Will Dow, of whom 
he had grown so fond when he hunted in Maine as a Harvard student. "The 
Elkhorn ranch house," he recalled, "was mainly built by Sewall and Dow 
who, like most men from the Maine woods, were mighty with the axe. I could 
chop fairly well for an amateur, but I could not do one-third the work they 
could. One day when we were cutting down the cottonwood trees, to begin 
our building operations, 1 heard some one ask Dow what the total cut had 
been, and Dow, not realizing that I was within hearing, answered: 'Well, Bill 
cut down 53, I cut 49, and the boss he beavered down 17.' Those who have 
seen the stump of a tree which has been gnawed down by a beaver will 
understand the exact force of the comparison." 

During the summer, ranching at Maltese Cross and lumbering at Elkhorn 
was interrupted with hunting trips, of which the most ambitious was a seven- 
week expedition to the Big Horn Mountains. The round trip covered nearly a 
thousand miles, and before the hunt was over, Roosevelt had shot three grizzly 
bears and six elk. By now he was a toughened Westerner, regarded with 
respect by the same hard-bitten cowhands who had scoffed at his dudish 
manners a year earlier. Once, participating in his first roundup, he had caused 
delighted guffaws among the cowhands by crying out to one of them, "Hasten 
forward quickly there!" a remark that became a standing joke in the Bad 
Lands. But none questioned his endurance or his willingness to carry a full 
share of the load. The respect for Roosevelt even approached awe when, badgered 
by a gun- wielding tough who addressed him as "Four-eyes" in the lobby of a hotel 
outside Medora, he caught the bully off balance and, with three well-placed 
punches, deposited him unconscious on the floor. That Roosevelt took deep pride 
in his westernization was evidenced in his remarks that "some of our gilded youth" 
would be much improved if they were subjected to "a short course of riding 
bucking ponies and assisting at the branding of a lot of Texas steers." 

Despite the intense attraction the Bad Lands held for him, he could not 
shake off the competing attraction of the East. After completing his role in the 
unsuccessful Blaine campaign in 1884, he returned to Medora, where he 
helped organize the Little Missouri Stock Association to help maintain law and 
order in the area and to protect ranchers' land rights. But by Christmas he was 
back in New York to spend the holidays with his baby daughter and his sister 
Bamie. He remained in the city almost three months, writing his Hunting Trips 
of a Ranchman and traveling frequently to Albany to work for a former legisla- 
tive colleague, Walter Hubbell, in his campaign for speakership of the 
Assembly and to help William M. Evarts win election to the U. S. Senate. 

In April 1885 Roosevelt was back again in the Bad Lands, and within a 
few weeks the Elkhorn ranch house was finished and occupied. Describing it 
later in his Autobiography, Roosevelt said: "After the first year I built on the 
Elkhorn ranch a long, low ranch house of hewn logs, with a veranda and with, 
in addition to the other rooms, a bedroom for myself, and a sitting-room with 
a big fireplace. I got out a rocking chair I am very fond of rocking chairs 
and enough books to fill two or three shelves, and a rubber bathtub so that I 
could get a bath. And then I do not see how any one could have lived more 


comfortably. We had buffalo robes and bearskins of our own killing. We always 
kept the house clean using the word in a rather large sense. There were at least 
two rooms that were always warm, even in the bitterest weather; and we had 
plenty to eat." The ranch house overlooked the Little Missouri, and the near- 
est neighbor was a dozen miles away. One could not have asked for a more 
ideal spot in which to combine the outdoor life with the quiet and solitude 
Roosevelt wished for writing. 

In June 1885, after a strenuous spring on the ranch, he was in New York 
again, working on details relating to the publication of his book Hunting Trips 
of a Ranchman (which received uniformly enthusiastic notices) and inspecting 
the progress of his house, Sagamore Hill, on Long Island, which was completed 
in the fall. He marched in the funeral of General Grant on July 23 and visited 
his friend Henry Cabot Lodge in Massachusetts but by the end of August 
he was back at Medora, attending to his duties as president of the Little 
Missouri Stockmen's Association and hunting the country north of Elkhorn. 
Then, early in September, he headed once more for New York to take a 
prominent part in the Republican state convention at Saratoga. Most of the 
rest of the year was spent on Long Island, where his social life was far removed 
from the rough-and-ready existence in the West. He did, however, find an outlet 
for his physical energies in riding with the Meadowbrook hounds, on one 
occasion suffering a broken arm and other injuries when his horse missed a 
jump and rolled over on top of him. Characteristically, he immediately re- 
mounted and resumed the hunt after dismissing the injury as "a mere trifle," 
and that night he went out to dinner in as buoyant spirits as ever. 

The following March March 1886 Roosevelt was back on his ranch and 
added another chapter to his western exploits by capturing Mike Finnigan 
and his two cohorts, who had stolen his boat and made off with it down the 
river. But his story in the Bad Lands was nearing its end. Most of 1886 he 
stayed in the East, preoccupied with other matters, political and romantic. In 
the fall of the previous year he had again met his childhood friend Edith 
Carow, and he married her in London on December 2, 1886. And while he was 
enjoying a European honeymoon, blizzards and bitter freeze-ups destroyed most 
of his cattle and helped seal Medora's fate as a cattleman's ghost town. When 
he returned to the Bad Lands in the spring of 1887 he went there to liquidate his 
holdings. His subsequent visits to the Elkhorn ranch were only as a hunter and 
when the last of his remaining cattle were sold off more than a decade later, the 
books showed a net loss of some $20,000 for his ranching venture. 

The extent to which the West shaped Roosevelt's outlook on life is hard to 
overstate. It had vast influence on his development. It brought the successful 
culmination of his quest for extraordinary physical stamina. It gave him a pro- 
found appreciation of the importance of frontier life and frontier philosophy in 
the American character. But the most important lesson was summed up by Roo- 
sevelt himself at the turn of the century when he addressed a trainside audience 
in Bismarck while campaigning for the vice-presidency. "I had studied a lot 
about men and things before I saw you fellows," he said, "but it was only when 
I came here that I began to know anything or measure men rightly." 




THIS WAS MEDORA at the height of its prosperity. 
The disastrous winter of 1886 made it a ghost village. 

MIDDAY MEAL. A Frederic Remington illustration 
for Roosevelt's book Ranch Life and the Hunting Trail. 

PLAYING CARDS in the Hotel de Mores. At left: 
Sylvane Ferris, one of Roosevelt's ranch managers. 


"I first reached the Little Missouri on a Northern 
Pacific train about three in the morning of a cool 
September day in 1883," noted Theodore Roosevelt 
in his Autobiography. His main reason for going to the 
Bad Lands was to hunt buffalo. He planned on a 
short hunting trip, but within a few days he had fallen 
deeply in love with the country, and, ready to settle 
there, he invested a large sum in a cattle ranch. 
The wide-open spaces of the Bad Lands became his 
refuge he returned there time and time again. He 
went there to hunt, to write, and to contemplate. 
There he "felt as absolutely free as a man could feel." 
He enjoyed the feeling of freedom and the feeling of 
loneliness. "Nowhere, not even at sea, does a man 
feel more lonely than when riding over the far- 



reaching, seemingly never-ending plains; and after a 
man has lived a little while on or near them, their 
very vastness and loneliness and their melancholy 
monotony have a strong fascination for him." 
The beauty of the country inspired him to his best 
literary efforts. "It was a land of vast silent spaces," 
he wrote, "of lonely rivers, and of plains where 
the wild game stared at the passing horseman. It 
was a land of scattered ranches, of herds of long- 
horned cattle, and of reckless riders who unmoved 
looked in the eyes of life or death. In that land we 
led a free and hardy life, with horse and with rifle. 
We worked under the scorching midsummer sun, 
when the wide plains shimmered and wavered in the 
heat; and we knew the freezing misery of riding night 

guard round the cattle in the late fall round-up. In 
the soft springtime the stars were glorious in our eyes 
each night before we fell asleep; and in the winter we 
rode through blinding blizzards, when the driven 
snow-dust burnt our faces. There were monotonous 
days, as we guided the trail cattle or the beef herds, 
hour after hour, at the slowest of walks; and minutes 
of hours teeming with excitement as we stopped stam- 
pedes or swam the herds across rivers treacherous with 
quicksands or brimmed with running ice. We knew 
toil and hardship and hunger and thirst; and we saw 
men die violent deaths as they worked among the 
horses and cattle, or fought in evil feuds with one an- 
other; but we felt the beat of hardy life in our veins, 
and ours was the glory of work and the joy of living." 



When Roosevelt came to the Bad Lands in 1883 he 
had no other reason but to hunt buffalo. As soon as 
he arrived he hired the Canadian Joe Ferris as a 
guide and could hardly wait to begin the hunt. The 
two set out in a buckboard up the Little Missouri, 
traveling forty-five miles to the cabin of Gregor Lang, 
which Ferris recommended as a base for their expe- 
dition. Making the journey in a single day, they 
reached the cabin before nightfall. The exhausted 
Ferris fell into bed, but Roosevelt was full of vigor 
and talked to his newly met hosts until the early 
hours of the morning. 

The next day it rained, "an impossible day for 
hunting," but Roosevelt could not be kept indoors. 
Reluctantly, Ferris went out with him. They were 
out the entire day looking for buffalo, but had no 
luck. This went on for days. Each morning they left 
the cabin in the rain; each evening they returned to 
the cabin empty-handed. 

At night Roosevelt sat up with the Langs, father 
and son, talking with them on a wide variety of topics. 
Young Lang remembered these talks as long as he 
lived. "I learned, for example," he recalled, "that 
while the world was a good place to live in, just as 
I had been thinking, there were to shear the frills 
a whole lot of rooting hogs loose in it." 

After exhausting days of plodding over the rough 
terrain, the hunters came at last upon the tracks of a 
buffalo. They followed the animal, but before Roose- 
velt could take aim, the buffalo had disappeared. 

In the late afternoon of that day the hunters per- 
ceived three dark specks on an open plain and stalked 
them on foot. The last half mile they made on hands 
and knees, Roosevelt's hands getting filled with cactus 
spines. Then hardly more than a hundred yards 
away there stood the buffalo. Roosevelt raised his 
rifle, fired at a bull. Dust flew from the animal's 
hide, but he dashed off. The hunters raced back to 
their horses and in the twilight began tHeir pursuit. 
The full moon was rising above the horizon as they 
closed in on the wounded animal. "The ground over 
which we were running was fearful," Roosevelt de- 
scribed the scene later, "being broken into holes 
and ditches, separated by hillocks; in the dull light, 
and at the speed we were going, no attempt could be 
made to guide the horses, and the latter, fagged out 
by their exertions, floundered and pitched forward 
at every stride, hardly keeping their legs. When up 
within twenty feet I fired my rifle, but the darkness, 
and especially the violent labored motion of my 
pony, made me miss; I tried to get in closer, when 
suddenly up went the bull's tail, and, wheeling, he 

charged me with lowered horns. My pony, frightened 
into momentary activity, spun round and tossed up 
his head; I was holding the rifle in both hands, and 
the pony's head, striking it, knocked it violently 
against my forehead, cutting quite a gash, from 
which, heated as I was, the blood poured into my 
eyes. Meanwhile the buffalo, passing me, charged my 
companion, and followed him as he made off, and, as 
the ground was very bad, for some little distance his 
lowered head was unpleasantly near the tired pony's 
tail. I tried to run in on him again, but my pony 
stopped short, dead beat; and by no spurring could I 
force him out of a slow trot. My companion jumped 
off and took a couple of shots at the buffalo, which 
missed in the dim moonlight; and to our unutterable 
chagrin the wounded bull labored off and vanished in 
the darkness. I made after him on foot, in hopeless 
and helpless wrath, until he got out of sight." 

Thoroughly worn out, the hunters lay down on 
the ground, using their saddles as pillows. At mid- 
night a wolf frightened their horses and they ran off, 
so the men had to chase them and bring them back. 
To make life more miserable, it began to rain; the 
rest of the night was spent shivering under wet 
blankets. Ferris felt in low spirits, but Roosevelt was 
elated. "By Godfrey but this is fun!" he repeated 
over and over again. 

As dawn broke, Roosevelt saw a buffalo cow in the 
driving rain, shot at her, but missed. Later he was 
thrown by his pony and slightly hurt. Exhausted and 
disappointed, the two hunters returned to the Lang 

By then Roosevelt was under the spell of the Bad 
Lands. He wanted to become a ranchman. Lang rec- 
ommended two men as managers of the ranch, and 
Roosevelt asked him to bring them to the cabin so 
he could talk to them. 

Next morning they hunted west of the river and 
found a perfect specimen of a bison bull. "His glossy 
fall coat was in fine trim and shone in the rays of 
the sun." Roosevelt, with bated breath, moved close 
to the animal; and when he came within fifty yards 
of it he fired. The buffalo disappeared over the dtst 
of a hill, leaving a blood trail; Roosevelt found his 
lifeless body at the bottom of a coulee a short dis- 
tance away. 

It was a triumphant moment; he had bagged his 
buffalo. So elated was he that he burst out in an In- 
dian war dance, then embraced Ferris and presented 
him with a hundred dollars. 

Well satisfied and pleased, Roosevelt took a train 
back East, traveling to New York, where his "darling 
little wife" was waiting for him. 



on his favorite horse, Manitou. "You would be 
amused to see me," wrote Roosevelt from the Bad 
Lands to his friend Henry Cabot Lodge back East, "in 
my broad sombrero hat, fringed and beaded buckskin 

shirt, horse hide chapajaros or riding trousers, and 
cowhide boots, with braided bridle and silver spurs." 
And in a descriptive letter to his sister he speaks of him- 
self as looking "like a regular cowboy dandy, with all 
my equipments finished in the most expensive style." 



A photograph taken in 1888 at the H.T. Ranch on 
Deep Creek in Slope County, showing the owner 
with the hands of the Little Missouri Horse Company 
in Dakota Territory. These tough, hard-riding, fun- 
loving men ran about five thousand horses yearly in 
the Bad Lands and then sold them to streetcar lines, 

breweries, and ice companies in the East. Seated, 
from left to right: ranch foreman Thomas Franklin 
Roberts; Norman Lebo, who cooked and was teams- 
ter for Roosevelt on the Big Horn hunting trip; 
A. C, Huidekoper, owner of the ranch; "Hell Roaring" 
Bill Jones, who drove for Roosevelt; George Wood- 



man, later manager of Huidekoper's ranch; Old Mc- 
Quillen, who "could ketch a horse with his own beard." 
Standing is Goose, a Crow Indian, next to Charley 
Mason; Charles Vansickle; Herman Hoist, the cook; 
Jim Harmon; Dan Fowler; Fred McClain; James 
Reynolds, and Schuyler N. Lebo, the son of Norman, 


A letter from Little Missouri, written to his elder 
sister on his second trip to the Bad Lands, dated 
June 17, 1884. Four months earlier Roosevelt had 
buried his wife and his mother. Only two weeks be- 
fore, his ambition to check James G. Blaine's candi- 
dacy in the Chicago Republican convention had 
been frustrated. Disappointed, he retired to his ranch, 
telling his sister that he is having "a glorious time" 
and that he is "well hardened." 

"I have never been in better health," he continues, 
"than on this trip. I am in the saddle all day long 
either taking part in the round-up of the cattle, or 
else hunting antelope. I got one the other day; an- 
other good head for our famous hall at Leeholm. I 
am really attached to my two 'factors/ Ferris and 
Merri field; they are very fine men. 

"The country is growing on me, more and more; 
it has a curious fantastic beauty of its own; and as I 
own six or eight horses I have a fresh one every day, 
and ride on a lope all day long. How sound I do 
sleep at night now! There is not much game how- 
ever; the cattle men have crowded it out and only a 
few antelope and deer remain. I have shot a few 
jackrabbits and curlews, with the rifle; and I also 
killed eight rattlesnakes." 


HE INCREASES HIS HOLDINGS in the Bad Lands. The second contract that Theodore 
Roosevelt made with William Merrifield and Sylvanus Ferris, on June 12, 1884, stipulated 
that Roosevelt would invest $26,000 to buy an additional thousand head of cattle. This raised 
his investment to $40,000, as in a similar agreement the previous autumn he had already 
given Merrifield and Ferris $14,000. This ranching venture was financially not rewarding. 
When the business was finally wound up his books showed a net loss of $20,292.63. 

THE LAND. "This broken coun- 
try extends back from the river for 
many miles, and has been called 
always . . . the 'Bad Lands,' partly 
from its dreary and forbidding 
aspect and partly from the difficulty 
experienced in traveling through it. 
... In spite of their look of savage 
desolation, the Bad Lands make 
good cattle country, for there is 
plenty of nourishing grass and ex- 
cellent shelter. . . . The cattle keep 
close to them in the cold months, 
while in the summertime they 
wander out on the broad prairies 
stretching back of them." 


ROUNDUP IN BAD LANDS a snapshot taken by Theodore Roosevelt, showing Sylvane 
Ferris, one of his managers at the Maltese Cross Ranch in the early eighties. Roosevelt in 
describing the cowboys of the western plains said they were all similar to each other: 
"Sinewy, hardy, self-reliant, their life forces them to be both daring and adventurous, 
and the passing over their heads of a few years leaves printed on their faces certain 
lines which tell of dangers quietly fronted and hardship uncomplainingly endured." 

THE CABIN at the Chimney 
Butte ranch. Of his brand he said 
that it was "always known as 
'maltee cross' ... as the general 
impression along the Little Mis- 
souri was that 'maltese' must be 
plural." And of ranch life: "I do 
not believe there ever was any life 
more attractive to a vigorous 
young fellow than life on a cattle 
ranch in those days. It was a fine, 
healthy life, too; it taught a man 
self-reliance, hardihood, and the 
value of instant decision in short, 
the virtues that ought to come 
from life in the open country." 


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"A BOYISH AMBITION OF MINE," wrote Roosevelt from Little Missouri to his 
sister Anna on June 23, 1 884, was fulfilled when he went on the prairie with horse and 
rifle entirely alone. "I wanted to see if I could not do perfectly well without a guide, 
and I succeeded beyond my expectations. I shot a couple of antelope and a deer, 
and missed a great many more . . . the weather was lovely, and every night I would 
lie wrapped up in my blanket looking at the stars till I fell asleep, in the cool air." 



THE ELKHORN RANCH SITE, as shown in the 
diorama at the American Museum of Natural History. 
The antelopes in the Bad Lands, so Roosevelt wrote, 
were "always very conspicuous figures in the land- 
scape, for, far from attempting to conceal itself, an 
antelope really seems anxious to take up a prominent 
position, caring only to be able itself to see its foes." 


HIS ARRIVAL in Bad Lands in 1884 was announced 
in a small item in the Bad Lands Cowboy. "Theodore 
Roosevelt, the young New York reformer," said the 
paper, "made us a very pleasant call Monday, in full 
cowboy regalia. New York will certainly lose him for 
a time at least, as he is perfectly charmed with our free 
western life and is now figuring on a trip into the Big 
Horn country. He is perfectly non-committal on 
politics and the alleged interview with him, published 
in the St. Paul Pioneer-Press, speaks more for the 
reporter's assininity than for his perspicacity." 



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"TOMORROW MORNING EARLY WE START OUT," he wrote to his sister 
Anna on August 1 7, 1884, a day before he set out to hunt on the Big Horns. "How 
long I will be gone I can not say; we will go in all nearly a thousand miles. If game is 
plenty and my success is good, I may return in six weeks; more probably I shall be out 
a couple of months; and if game is so scarce that we have to travel very far to get it, 
or if our horses give out or run away, or we get caught by the snow, we may be 
out very much longer till towards Xmas; though I will try to be back to vote." 



On his third journey to the Bad Lands, Roosevelt 
hunted in the Big Horn Mountains with William 
Merrifield as his guide and old Norman Lebo as his 
teamster. ("He is a weazened, wiry old fellow, very 
garrulous, brought up on the frontier, and a man 
who is never put out or disconcerted by any possible 
combination of accidents.") 

One day they rode through a driving rainstorm 
which developed into a regular hurricane of hail and 
wind. Roosevelt noted: "The rain lasted all night 
and we slept in the wagon, pretty wet and not very 
comfortable. Another time a sharp gale of wind and 
rain struck us in the middle of the night, as we were 
lying out in the open (we have no tent) and we 
shivered under our wet blankets till morning." 

He shot a number of prairie chickens, sage hens, 
and ducks, and a couple of fine bucks, "besides 
missing several of the latter that I ought to have 
killed." But when he shot two bucks with one bullet 

from four hundred yards, he hailed his achievement 
as "much the best shot I ever made." 

"From morning till night I was on foot, in cool, 
bracing air, now moving silently through the vast, 
melancholy pine forests, now treading the brink of 
high, rocky precipices, always amid the most grand 
and beautiful scenery; and always after as noble and 
lordly game as is to be found in the Western World." 

Then came the great day when he found himself 
face to face with a huge creature, nine feet in height, 
weighing over twelve hundred pounds "slowly rising 
from his bed among the young spruces" a grizzly bear. 

"As he sank down to his forefeet I had raised the 
rifle; his head was slightly down, and when I saw the 
top of the white bead fairly between his small, glit- 
tering, evil eyes, I pulled the trigger. Half ris- 
ing up, the huge beast fell over on his side in the 
death throes, the ball having gone into his brain, 
striking as fairly between the eyes as if the dis- 
tance had been measured by a carpenter's rule." 



for Hunting Trips of a Ranchman, Roosevelt's second 
book, published by Putnam in 1885. They were posed 
in a New York studio. The young author, standing on 
imitation grass, is dressed in a buckskin suit made for 


Roosevelt's Elkhorn Ranch derived 
its name u from the fact that on the 
ground where we built it were found 
the skulls and interlocked antlers of 
two wapiti bulls who had perished 
from getting their antlers fastened in 
battle." He described the place in 
vivid colors. "The ranch-house stood 
on the brink of a low bluff overlook- 
ing the broad, shallow bed of the Lit- 
tle Missouri, through which at most 
seasons there ran only a trickle of 
water, while in times of freshet it was 
filled brimful with the boiling, foam- 


him in the Bad Lands by a Mrs. Maddox, who lived 
over on the Deadwood Trail some twenty-five miles 
east of Sage Bottom. Keen to get the suit, Roosevelt 
rode to her place, making the trip of fifty miles in a sin- 
gle day and shooting his first antelope on the way back. 


ing muddy torrent. There was no 
neighbor for ten or fifteen miles on 
either side of me. The river twisted 
down in long curves between narrow 
bottoms bordered by sheer cliff walls, 
for the Bad Lands, a chaos of peaks, 
plateaus, and ridges, rose abruptly 
from the edges of the level, tree-clad, 
or grassy, alluvial meadows. In front 
of the ranch-house veranda was a row 
of cotton wood trees," from which 
"came the far-away, melancholy 
cooing of mourning doves, and little 
owls perched in them ... at night" 


ASKING BILL SEWALL AND WILMOT DOW to come from Maine to the Bad 
Lands as managers of his cattle ranch. But he warns them: "If you are afraid of hard 
work and privation, do not come west ... If on the other hand you are willing to work 
hard . . . you will be in the receipt of about a thousand dollars for the third year, . . . 
and a future as bright as you yourself choose to make it, then come." 


THREE OLD FRIENDS. Roosevelt induced his two friends from Maine, Will Dow and 
Bill Sewall, to follow him to Bad Lands "to start the Elkhorn Ranch lower down the river." 


Roosevelt's two friends from Maine were not doing 
too well with their cattle ranch in the Bad Lands. By 
the beginning of 1885 Sewall was yearning to return 
to Maine. He wrote to his brother: "I don't like so 
free a country. Where one man has as good a right as 
another, nobody really has any right. . . . When feed 
gets scarce in one place, they drive their cattle where 
it is good without regard to whose range they eat 
out. ... I don't like it and never did. I want to con- 
trol and manage my own affairs and have a right to 
what I do have." Things got worse. When, in the fall, 
the cattle had to be sold for less than the cost of rais- 
ing, Sewall and Dow asked Roosevelt to release them 
and let them go home. Roosevelt acceded, turning the 
management of Elkhorn over to William Merrifield. 
It proved the right time to pull out. That winter 
terrific storms laid sheets of ice over the range, and 
foodless cattle starved and froze to death. Spring 
found the Little Missouri Valley a scene of desolation. 



SEAWALL 6 Dow, Manager*. 

P. O. address, Lit- 
tle Missouri. D. T. 

Range, Little Mis- 
souri, twenty-five 
miles north of rail- 

or the re- 
Horse brand, 

Ion right or 
left should- 



Antoine-Am6dee-Marie- Vincent Manca de Vallombrosa, Marquis de Mores 
(standing in the center, and the portrait on the left), and his wife, Medora 
von Hoffman (on horseback), the wealthy daughter of a Wall Street banker. 
They came to the Little Missouri in 1 883 with dreams of a cattle empire. The 
twenty-four-year-old marquis founded a settlement and named it "Medora" 
after his wife. Behind his back he was called "the crazy Frenchman." 


built on a hill with a magnificent 
view. A mansion of thirty rooms 
staffed by twenty servants, it seemed 
out of place in an area where most 
people lived in simple cabins. Mar- 
quis de Mores and his wife flaunted 
every tradition of the old West, living 
as if their chiteau were not in the 
Bad Lands but in Imperial France. 
If guests came, "big goblets of cham- 
pagne" were served, visiting Russian 
dukes were taken to hunt in fine 
coaches, and for traveling the mar- 
quis used his own railroad car. 


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He wrote: "If you are my enemy I want to know 
it. I am always on hand as you know and be- 
tween gentlemen it is easy to settle matters of 
that sort directly." De Mores was upset because 
he thought that Joe Ferris, Roosevelt's friend, 
"has been instrumental in getting me indicted 
by furnishing money to witnesses and hunting 
them up." Only a week earlier the marquis had 
been indicted by a grand jury for the murder of 
Reiley Luffsey and was even put in jail. Bitter 
about his experience, he wrote this note a few 
days after his imprisonment. And Roosevelt an- 
swered: "Most emphatically I am not your en- 
emy; if I were you would know it, for I would be 
an open one, and would not have asked you to 
my house nor gone to yours. As your final words, 
however, seem to imply a threat it is due to my- 
self to say that the statement is not made 
through any fear of possible consequences to 
me; I too, as you know, am always on hand, 
and ever ready to hold myself accountable in 
any way for anything I have said or done." 



One day in the spring of 1886 Roosevelt's men on the 
ranch found that their boat had been stolen. They 
suspected that the thief was Mike Finnigan, a char- 
acter who lived up the river with his two cronies the 
German Pfaffenbach and the half-breed Burnsted. 

Roosevelt had strong convictions about thefts. He 
wrote: "In any wild country where the power of the 
law is little felt or heeded and where everyone has 
to rely upon himself for protection, men soon get to 
feel that it is in the highest degree unwise to submit 
to any wrong without making an immediate and 
resolute effort to avenge it upon the wrongdoers, at 
no matter what cost of risk or trouble." 

Determined to regain his boat, he told Sewall to 
build a flat-bottomed scow, and on it he, with his 
two managers, poled and drifted down the river be- 
tween walls of ice, their faces nipped by the biting 
wind. On the third morning they spied the stolen 
boat moored against the bank. And not far away 

they found Mike Finnigan and his two cohorts; they 
were subdued without a fight. "We simply crept 
noiselessly up," wrote Roosevelt to his friend Cabot 
Lodge in Boston, "and rising when only a few yards 
distant covered them with the cocked rifles." 

With temperatures below zero, with ice cakes 
blocking their way, the return journey turned out to 
be more perilous. Roosevelt did not dare to tie his 
prisoners because of the danger that their hands 
might be frozen. It took six full days to reach one of 
the Diamond Ranch camps. Curiously enough, 
during these days he read Tolstoi's Anna Karenina 
"with more interest than I have any other novel for 
I do not know how long." 

From the camp the three captives were trans- 
ported to Dickinson. When Roosevelt reached his 
destination after two sleepless nights he was exhausted. 
The local doctor commented: "The average westerner, 
of course, would have hanged the thieves out of hand. 
But evidently that did not occur to Roosevelt." 




While Theodore Roosevelt was busy in New York writing his Hunting Trips of 
a Ranchman, the political picture of the nation underwent a radical change. 

March 4, 1885, marked the advent of the Promised Land for the Democrats, 
who had waited nearly three decades for a presidential victory. To many of 
the party faithful, the new President appeared as a sort of political messiah 
who would mercilessly expose the skulduggery of his Republican predecessors 
and would quickly install good Democrats in every federal office. Grover 
Cleveland did neither. 

To the intense disappointment of Democratic spoilsmen who had hoped for 
a clean sweep of federal jobs, Cleveland promptly reaffirmed his promise that 
"merit and competency shall be recognized instead of party subserviency." 
When one senator complained that the administration should move faster to 
advance "the principles of Democracy/' the President merely replied: "I sup- 
pose you mean that I should appoint two horse thieves a day instead of one." 

For all his dislike of the patronage system, the President was continually 
beset by what he termed "the damned everlasting clatter for office," and be- 
fore his term was over he alienated many former mugwump supporters by 
letting the Democrats take over most of the best federal jobs notably in the 
Post Office Department, where the first assistant postmaster-general, Adlai E. 
Stevenson, removed so many postmasters that "Adlai's ax" became a byword. 

To keep politics and economics as separate entities the custom of Pres- 
idents since the beginning of the Republic was becoming increasingly 
difficult, as the rise of trusts and monopolies produced mounting social unrest 
everywhere. Labor felt that the workingman was gaining nothing from the 
new industrialism. New machines had made factory work not only monotonous 
but insecure, without shortening the working day. New sources of wealth had 
not improved the distribution of money or prevented the cancerous growth of 
dismal slums. In most cities a workman's average wage was two dollars to three 
dollars for a twelve- to fourteen-hour day. In filthy tenement sweatshops 
women and small children worked sixteen hours a day and more. Unemploy- 
ment was a constant problem. 

Workers began to band together in labor organizations. By the mid-eighties 
the Knights of Labor had three quarters of a million members. The American 
Federation of Labor, founded in 1886 under the leadership of Samuel Gompers, 
was composed of craft unions, more exclusive than democratic, more concerned 
with immediate objectives than with long-range political and social reforms. 

Halfway through Cleveland's first term these forces of unrest came to a boil, 


producing twice as many strikes as in any previous years. On the Gould rail- 
road system of the Southwest, six thousand miles of track were tied up for many 
weeks, with steady fighting between strikers and troops. In Chicago a series 
of strikes for an eight-hour day led to a riot in which workers were shot by 
the police. A day later, at a Haymarket Square mass meeting, a bomb was 
thrown into the midst of police squads trying to break up the gathering, killing 
and injuring not only policemen but bystanders. Public indignation ran high, 
and even though the bomb thrower was never apprehended, eight anarchists 
were tried and found guilty of murder. The opinion of the country turned vio- 
lently against "bomb-throwing" labor organizations, and though the Knights of 
Labor had no hand in the Haymarket tragedy, it brought about the end of 
that union's influence. 

The unrest on the farms found less violent forms of expression, but it was 
no less deep-seated. Farm prices dropped steadily. Wheat, which sold for 
$1.45 a bushel in 1866, was down to 69 cents by 1889. 

There were many reasons for the unrest. Machinery and new growing 
methods resulted in overproduction and exhaustion of the soil; specialization 
destroyed the farmers' old-time self-sufficiency; high tariffs, established by a 
government that gave its primary allegiance to manufacturers, kept prices 
high; farmers were forced to buy dear but had to sell their products cheap; as 
the cost of money went up, they paid as high as 1 and even 20 per cent on 
mortgages that were generally held by banks and insurance companies in the 
East. Between the rising cost of money and falling price of farm produce, it took 
twice as much wheat or corn to pay off a mortgage as it had two decades earlier. 

Out of these miseries came the Grange, which had been started as a pri- 
marily social organization in 1867, and the Farmers' Alliances, which crusaded 
for farmers in the 1880s and became the Populist party of the 1890s. Out of 
these miseries, too, came innumerable devices for bypassing the middleman, 
from farmers' co-operatives (which often were frustrated by hostile banking 
interests) to flourishing mail-order enterprises like the one started in 1872 by 
Aaron Montgomery Ward. Also out of these farm miseries came the Inter- 
state Commerce Act of 1887, perhaps the most important piece of legislation 
during President Cleveland's first term. 

Behind this legislation w&s a long record of discrimination and mismanage- 
ment on the part of the booming railroad industry. In most areas the railroads 
enjoyed a complete monopoly, which they abused by charging exorbitant 
rates to farmers and other small shippers while giving secret rebates to favored 
shippers. In the East a system of secret rebates had given Rockefeller domina- 
tion over the oil-refining industry, squeezing out and ruining refiners who would 
not sell out on his terms. In the Middle West and West the principal victims of 
discriminatory railroad rates were the small farmers, who had no bargaining 
power as individuals and no alternative means of transportation. With a few 
notable exceptions like James J. Hill, the "empire builder," railroad magnates 
tended to regard the farmer as an ignorant peasant who had no business 
objecting to whatever rates they chose to charge. 


But public regulation came, in spite of the enormous political power exer- 
cised by the railroads through such devices as outright bribery, political 
campaign funds, and the distribution of free passes to the families of politi- 
cians, editors, and even judges. It came first, in the depression of the 1870s, in 
the form of state legislation (the so-called Granger Laws) designed to police 
railroad rate-making. And when these laws were thrown out by the courts on 
the grounds that states have no right to regulate interstate commerce, it came 
in the form of the Interstate Commerce Act, which prohibited discriminatory 
rates, forbade "pooling" arrangements by which competing railroad lines 
agreed to avoid competition by keeping their rates high and dividing the profits 
among themselves, and required all lines to file their rate schedules with an 
Interstate Commerce Commission. In practice the commission found its 
directives evaded by slippery railroaders and its powers sniped at by a con- 
servative judiciary, but the principle of the public's right to regulate was 
nonetheless firmly established. 

Although this was the most significant legislation of the first Cleveland 
administration, it was not as controversial as either the pension issue or the 
tariff question. Since the Civil War, veterans' pensions had been dispensed 
with increasing prodigality so that by 1885 more than 65 million dollars a 
year was being paid out. President Cleveland began to scrutinize and veto the 
hundreds of special pension bills that were passed by Congress each year. 

The tariff question had its origin in the Civil War period, when the average 
duties rose up to 40 per cent. To Cleveland this seemed evil in that it pushed 
up prices, aided the formation of trusts, and contributed to a mounting treasury 
surplus which encouraged pension grabs and other governmental extrava- 
gances. Thus, the President took the unprecedented step of making tariff 
reduction the sole subject of his annual message to Congress in December 1887. 
The message created a sensation. Godkin, of the Nation, spoke for reformers 
generally in calling it "the most courageous document that has been sent from 
the White House since the Civil War." Republicans of more orthodox stripe, 
like Congressman William McKinley of Ohio, grimly pictured it as a body 
blow to every American manufacturer. "Let England take care of herself," 
said McKinley, "let France look after her interests, let Germany take care of 
her own people, but in God's name let Americans look after America." Fol- 
lowing the Cleveland message, a bill reducing tariffs by about 7 per cent was 
passed by the Democratic House but blocked in the Republican Senate thus 
the electorate was to decide in the shortly forthcoming presidential election 
whether it was to support Cleveland and tariff reduction or Benjamin Harrison 
and high protection. 

In a base and corrupt campaign, the Republican candidate won, though 
Cleveland's popular vote was 100,000 larger than that of Harrison. Matt 
Quay, Pennsylvania's Republican boss, remarked that Harrison would "never 
know how close a number of men were compelled to approach the gates of the 
penitentiary to make him president" an appropriate introduction to an ad- 
ministration that was to set a new record of subservience to special interests. 





cartoon in Puck illustrated the pension situation. A year 
after the Civil War only $15,000,000 was expended 
on veterans' pensions, but by 1887 because of the 
powerful pressure brought by the Grand Army of 
the Republic this sum had grown to $75,000,000 
annually. Many of these pensions were based on 
fraudulent claims by men who had never seen actual 
service. Medical examiners approved pension peti- 
tions giving such amazing reasons, as that the appli- 
cant had a "normal heart" or a "normal liver," and 
there was a case where the physician supported the 
applicant's petition because he had "a protuberant 
abdomen." Congress passed personal pension bills 
one after the other. As the country had already given 
$800,000,000 to veterans, President Cleveland made 
up his mind to halt this unjustifiable drain on the 
public coffers. In his first term he vetoed 233 pension 
bills out of 747 passed by Congress. 

was one of the crucial questions under the Cleveland 
administration. The country was prosperous, and the 
federal income was far greater than the sum needed 
for running expenses. From $100,000,000 in 1870 the 
surplus rose to $300,000,000 by 1884. 

A simple answer was for the government to repay 
its debts, redeem its bonds. But this was easier said 
than done. Such a move would have deprived the 
public of its best investment, besides reducing the cir- 
culation of bank notes for which the bonds were 


security. Another way would have been to spend the 
money on internal improvements on better harbors, 
dams, coastal defenses. But this countered the beliefs 
of the Democrats the party in power. "The people 
must support the government," said Cleveland, "but 
the government must not support the people." 

In Cleveland's opinion, the simplest way out of the 
dilemma was to reduce the tariff, which would not 
only relieve the people of undue taxation, but would 
also halt congressional largesse. Thus he devoted his 
entire 1887 message to Congress to the argument for 

tariff reduction, pointing out that for the past eleven 
months the excess of revenue over expenditure had 
been $55,000,000 and that by June 30, 1888, the 
Treasury surplus would be $140,000,000 idly held 
money, "uselessly subtracted from channels of trade." 
The Senate, disregarding the President's plea, 
would not pass the House-approved tariff reduction 
bill. Thus the issue was put up to the electorate, 
which in the following presidential election repu- 
diated Cleveland and his plan and elected Benjamin 
Harrison, the Republican advocate of high protection. 


THE MONSTER MONOPOLY, a cartoon on Standard Oil in Judge. The late seventies 
and early eighties saw the birth of large corporations, commonly called "trusts." Oil and 
lead producers, sugar refiners, lumbermen, whiskey distillers, and other big businessmen 
turned their holdings into great trusts, wielding enormous political and economic power. 


LABOR LEADERS. As capital consolidated itself 
in trusts, so labor organized into unions, demanding 
equitable wages, fair working hours, protection against 
unwarranted discharge, and a minimum security in 
cases of sickness and disability. 

These six men were founders of the Noble Order of 
the Knights of Labor, a workers' organization which 
had three quarters of a million members by 1886. It 
advocated union of all trades, co-operative ownership 
of means of production, education, and secrecy of 
rituals. The empty chair is that of the movement's 
deceased leader, Uriah S. Stephens. 


VIOLENT STRIKES became marked under 
Cleveland's administration. In 1884, the year Cleve- 
land was elected, there were 485 strikes; in 1885 the 
figure rose to 695, and in 1886 to 1,505. The Pres- 
ident, deeply concerned about the labor disputes, 
sent a special message to Congress in the spring of 
1886 the first presidential message on labor. 



On May Day 1886 labor struck for an eight-hour 
day. AH over the country, workers demonstrated. 
Two days later, in a clash between police and pickets 
at the McCormick Reaper Works, one worker was 
killed and others wounded. 

Next night, in a mass protest meeting on Chicago's 

Haymarket Square, anarchists addressed the demon- 
strators; and when the speeches became too inflam- 
matory, the police ordered the crowd to disperse. At 
that instant a bomb was thrown into the squad, killing 
eight men instantly and wounding sixty more. The 
enraged policemen charged into the crowd, the 
demonstrators returned their fire; there were more 




to the Haymarket riots is contained in a letter to his 
sister Bamie from the Bad Lands. For this note, 
written in hot anger, he was later severely criticized. 
"My men here are hard-working, labouring men," 
wrote Roosevelt, "who work longer hours for no 
greater wages than many of the strikers; but they are 
Americans through and through. I believe nothing 
would give them greater pleasure than a chance with 
their rifles at one of the mobs. When we get the 
papers, especially in relation to the dynamite busi- 
ness, they become more furiously angry and excited 
than I do. I wish I had them with me and a fair show 
at ten times our number of rioters; my men shoot well 
and fear very little." 

Roosevelt's emotional outburst about the Hay- 
market riots differed little from those of other proper- 
tied men in the country. They were not only outraged 
because labor broke the law, but because it wanted 
to strengthen itself by becoming organized. And 
after the unhappy bomb-throwing affair, labor 
leaders became confused in their minds with cut- 
throats and murderers, and labor's demand for 
better working conditions and job security seemed to 
them anarchist villainy. 

dead and wounded. 

Though the person who threw the bomb was 
never found, eight anarchists were arrested. Four of 
them were hanged on the charge of inciting people 
to riot, the others sentenced to life imprisonment. 

After the Haymarket incident the mood of the 
country turned against labor and its organizations. 



THE NEW REPUBLICAN PRESIDENT. Benjamin Harrison, a colorless Indiana law- 
yer, the grandson of President William Henry Harrison, was an easy butt for cartoonists. 
Joseph Opper called this caricature which appeared in Puck: "Truth is stranger than fiction," 
and in it the nursery-tale midgets sing: "Great Lilliput! He's smaller than any of us!" 




After Alice's death, Roosevelt shuttled restlessly between the Bad Lands 
and the East. By the end of 1884 his term in the legislature was over and, as 
he was not running for a fourth time, he was ready to turn his back on politics. 
His future plans were to attend to his ranch, to hunt, to lead the life of a pri- 
vate citizen. And in his spare time he would write. He would be no longer a 
politician but "a literary feller." 

The editor of the American Statesmen series asked him to contribute a biogra- 
phy of Senator Thomas Hart Benton. He went at it like a house on fire. 
Within a few weeks the book was completed. It was a superficial, poorly con- 
ceived study, in which Benton was mainly evolved "from my inner conscious- 
ness." In fact, Roosevelt had so little knowledge of his subject's life that he 
asked his friend Cabot Lodge, in Boston, to hire someone in the East to find 
out for him what Benton did after he left the Senate in 1850. The book is, 
nonetheless, significant as a statement of Roosevelt's views on the American 
character and the destiny of the United States. In praising Benton's anti- 
British stand in the Oregon dispute, the author gave vent to his own national- 
istic philosophy. He wrote: "By right we should have given ourselves the 
benefit of every doubt in all territorial questions and have shown ourselves 
ready to make prompt appeal to the sword whenever it became necessary as 
a last resort." No wonder that the reviewer of the Nation found Roosevelt's 
philosophy "too much muscular Christianity, minus the Christian part." 

The Benton was followed by six articles for the Century Magazine, describing 
life in the cattle country of the Far West. These pieces completed in Italy a 
year later made up the volume Ranch Life and the Hunting Trail, a moderate 
success with three thousand copies sold of the first edition. 

Though he went through the motions of feverish activity, this was a bleak 
period for Roosevelt, a period when he viewed his future with jaundiced eye. 
His personal life in a shambles, his political life at a dead end, he tried to keep 
himself frantically busy with his ranch and with his writing. "My chance of 
doing anything in the future worth doing seems to grow continually smaller," 
he wrote to his friend Lodge. 

Then all of a sudden everything had changed; all of a sudden the future 
looked bright. To pinpoint the turn of his fortunes is hard, but a fair guess is that 
it came in the fall of 1885 when he met his childhood sweetheart, Edith 
Carow, again. For the next few months, until Edith moved to Europe with 


her mother and her sister, they saw each other frequently. Theodore promised 
to follow her to London in the fall and marry her. Why he needed more time, 
one can only surmise. Social conventions demanded a restraint; Alice had 
been dead only two years. Thus, in March 1886 he and Edith parted; Edith 
sailed for Europe while Roosevelt returned to his ranch in the Bad Lands. 

By the first week in October he was back in New York, ready to go after 
Edith. While in the city he was persuaded by Republican politicians to 
become the party's candidate for mayor and run against Henry George, the 
self-educated printer from San Francisco and the author of Progress and 
Poverty, who was the candidate of Labor. The Democrats put up Abram S. 
Hewitt, the son-in-law of Peter Cooper and a wealthy ironmonger with strong 
conviction for social reforms. At first it looked as if the Republicans would line 
up behind Hewitt to ensure George's defeat, but then they settled on Roose- 
velt, and in the Republican county convention at New York's Grand Opera 
House, Chauncey M. Depew put his name into nomination. 

As Depew was making his speech according to the New York Times report 
Assemblyman Isaac Dayton moved to the rostrum in agitation, crying that 
the man whom they were to nominate was no better than George. "He is a 
free trader!" asserted Dayton, to which Depew retorted, "I say he is not!" 
And he added, "He told me so last night." Then Depew went on, praising 
Roosevelt for "the rare courage to acknowledge that he has recovered from 
the errors of his youth." It may have been, Depew continued, that Roosevelt 
when at Harvard "believed in the strange and extraordinary theories of 
Henry George; he may even have had doubts of orthodox religion." But all 
this belonged to the past; "today he stands cured." 

The delegates accepted Roosevelt's candidacy by acclamation, though many 
Republicans doubted the wisdom of putting up a candidate who would take 
votes away from Hewitt and thus make certain the victory for George a possi- 
bility abhorrent to all conservatives. However, the New York Times was 
squarely behind Roosevelt. In a long editorial it asked the citizens of New 
York to support the Republican candidate, as he "excites more confidence 
and enthusiasm than has been inspired by any candidate in a mayoralty con- 
test within the memory of this generation of voters." 

Roosevelt was not too confident of his chances. Shortly after his nomina- 
tion he wrote to Lodge: "If at this time the decent so-called Republicans 
would stand by me I would have a good chance of winning; as it is, if the 
Hewitt stampede grows strong I will be most disastrously defeated." His pre- 
monition proved to be right. The conservative Republicans, "the world 
that owned houses and lands and stocks," was trembling. Panic-stricken, they 
gave their support to the Democratic candidate rather than take a chance 
and vote for Roosevelt. With their votes Hewitt won the election. 

Roosevelt was badly beaten; his defeat was worse than he expected. But he 
had no time to be downhearted; within a fortnight he was on the boat to Eng- 
land, where Edith was waiting for him. On December 2 they were married in 
London at St. George's Church. Best man was Cecil Spring-Rice, the young 


English diplomat whom Roosevelt had met on the voyage to Europe and with 
whom he struck up a friendship that lasted a lifetime. 

After the wedding the young couple traveled in Italy. Roosevelt was not 
anxious to return to America not for a while anyhow. 

Bad news came from his ranch. There was a disastrous winter in the West; 
the blizzards left sheets of ice over the ground, leaving the cattle without sub- 
sistence. When spring came, the valleys of the Bad Lands were covered with 
the bodies of dead animals. Roosevelt knew that his cattle venture had ended 
in a fiasco. Again the future looked bleak. He considered selling Sagamore 
Hill, his newly built house at Oyster Bay, but he "did not have the heart" to 
do it. He was pondering what to do. Politics? From Florence he wrote to his 
sister: "I have not the slightest belief in my having any political future." 

Thus, he journeyed from place to place, from Florence to Rome, from there 
to Milan, and finally "we ended up in Venice by having a real snow storm." 
Then to London and to the English countryside, visiting Lord North, "a dear 
old gentleman, a regular old foxhunter, who wears a red dress coat," or hav- 
ing lunch "at the castle of Lord Saye and Scale, a great moated place, built 
in 1301, and looking as if it came out of an old world romance." But though 
he enjoyed social life, liked to meet people and to make new acquaintances, 
"after all I shall be glad to get home; I am an American through to the 

On March 19 he and Edith returned home. A short trip to the Bad Lands 
to count his losses and wind up his cattle enterprise then settling down at 
Sagamore Hill, working on a biography of Gouverneur Morris and on his 
most ambitious project, The Winning of the West. 

The summer of 1887 passed quietly but happily. If there was relatively 
little entertaining, that was no cause for regret to Edith, who was somewhat 
bookish and retiring by nature and, moreover, was expecting a child in the 
fall. There were picnics and rowboat rides and much reading aloud from the 
works of Browning and Thackeray and Matthew Arnold. And there was little 
Alice, whom Theodore found a delightful companion for his leisure hours, 
whether building castles of blocks in the nursery or "cavorting and prancing 
with that young lady on, my back." When Edith's baby, a boy, arrived in 
mid-September, he was of course named Theodore. His father found him a 
"very merry lovable little fellow," and not long afterward gave what, by his 
strenuous standards, must have been the ultimate seal of approval: "He plays 
more vigorously than anyone I ever saw." 

Politically, Roosevelt was in the desert. Editor Godkin, annoyed by his 
assaults on the mugwumps, deemed them "chatter-box abuse," and declared 
that he wasn't worth taking seriously as a politician and never had been. 

But as time passed and, in the fall of 1888, Benjamin Harrison was nomi- 
nated as the Republican contender for the presidency, Roosevelt was- once 
more back in the fray, speaking on behalf of the Republican ticket, pleading 
for Harrison and for high protection. And when Harrison was elected Theo- 
dore Roosevelt was on his way to becoming a public figure again. 



In 1 886 when Henry George became the Labor can- 
didate for the chief city office, both Democrats and 
Republicans were panic-stricken. George was branded 
as a dangerous fanatic; his thesis "that with the growth 
in population land grows in value, and the men who 
work for it must pay more for the privilege" and his 
suggested remedy a juster distribution of wealth 
through taxation were anathema to men of property. 
To oppose George, Tammany and the Democrats 
nominated Abram S. Hewitt, a wealthy businessman. 

At first the Republicans considered supporting 
Hewitt to ensure the defeat of George, but then, for 
the sake of improving their bargaining position, they 
decided to run their own candidate. They approached 
Elihu Root and Levi P. Morton, and when both had 
declined, their choice became Theodore Roosevelt. 

As to his chances, Roosevelt had no rosy dreams. 
On October 1 7 he wrote to Cabot Lodge that after 
being entreated by a number of influential Republi- 
cans to take the nomination, "with the most genuine 



The candidate of Labor 
and the liberal element 
for the mayoralty came 
from San Francisco to 
live in New York. Con- 
servative Republicans, 
fearing George's victory, 
turned to the Demo- 
cratic candidate rather 
than support their own. 


The candidate of the 
Democrats, a respected 
ironmonger and phil- 
anthropist, won the may- 
oralty in one of the 
city's most exciting con- 
tests. Hewitt was an ar- 
dent advocate of social 
reforms; he fought cor- 
ruption in government. 


reluctance I finally accepted. It is of course a per- 
fectly hopeless contest." And three days later: ". . . if 
the Hewitt stampede grows strong I will be most 
disastrously defeated." 

Of the contest which Hewitt won Jacob Riis 
remarked: "And in the wild dread of the disaster that 
was coming, men forsook party, principles, everything, 
and threw themselves into the arms of Tammany." 

Roosevelt's wire to his friend Lodge was terse: 
"Am badly defeated. Worse even than I feared." 

DEFEATED. Abram Hewitt won the hotly contested 
election with 90,522 votes. Henry George had 68,1 10, 
while Roosevelt ran third with 60,435. Puck, the satiri- 
cal political weekly, wrote in derision: "Be happy, Mr. 
Roosevelt, be happy while you may . . . Bright visions 
float before your eyes of what the Party can and may 
do for you. We wish you a gradual and gentle awaken- 
ing. We fear the Party cannot do much for you." 



The first girl in Theodore's life was Edith Carow, 
whom he had known since early childhood. It was her 
picture which, showed to the eleven-year-old Theo- 
dore while he was in Europe, "stired up in me home- 
sicknes and longing for the past which will come 
again never, alack never." Then while at Harvard 
he met Alice Lee, fell in love with her, and mar- 
ried his "wilful darling." Edith Carow remained a 
friend, but the two saw little of each other. After 
Alice's death, Theodore deliberately avoided Edith. 
He had strong moral convictions; with all his dash 
and bravado, he was heart and soul a Victorian. 
But then by one of those coincidences they met 
in the fall of 1885. Intending to visit his sister at her 
Madison Avenue home, Theodore met Edith in the 
hallway just as she was leaving after a call on Bamie. 
From then on for the next five months they be- 
came constant companions. (For days his diary con- 
tained no entry but the letter "E.") In the spring of 
1 886 Edith went to London with her mother and 
sister; in the fall of the same year after his defeat 
in the New York mayoralty contest Theodore fol- 
lowed her. On December 2, 1886, they were married. 


EDITH KERMIT CAROW, the "Eidieth" of his 
childhood, became Roosevelt's second wife. On the 
marriage certificate (see the facsimile below) the 
bridegroom gave his profession as "ranchman." 

tWflki4Jsd^JPJ^ dttrt^A^ 

Sft-frifcrr I ^fciii n <M ilai imimSI fJS? **m d ~ 1^ 



* iMlflM Cfc**. tp |2Ucn 

>* *^- ^-^ ^ 


15 ft 



"Writing is to me intensely irksome work," confessed 
Roosevelt to his sister, yet he kept on writing books 
in quick succession. In 1885 he published Hunting 
Trips of a Ranchman; a year later he completed the 
biography of Missouri Senator Thomas Hart Benton; 

SAGAMORE HILL, his home at 
Oyster Bay, designed by Rich and 
Lorenzo, with twenty-three spacious 
rooms was large enough to accom- 
modate a growing family. Com- 
pleted in the spring of 1885, it cost 
$17,000. It was not a thing of ex- 
terior beauty. "I did not know 
enough to be sure what I wished in 
outside matters," Roosevelt said, 
"but I had perfectly definite views 
what I wished in inside matters . . . 
I had to live inside and not outside 
the house." The result was a solid, 
immensely livable home with eight 
big fireplaces, a spacious piazza for 
viewing the sunset, and an at- 
mosphere of serene permanence. 

1888 saw the publication of his biography on Gouver- 
neur Morris, also his articles on "Ranch Life and the 
Hunting Trail." During these years he was also work- 
ing on his major literary opus, a carefully researched 
study of The Winning of the West (published in three 
volumes) and on his history of the City of New York. 


STREET SCENE IN WASHINGTON in the Spring of 1889, when Theodore Roosevelt 
moved to the city to take office as U. S. Civil Service Commissioner. The post was an impecu- 
nious one, paying only $3,500 a year. But Roosevelt accepted it with alacrity. He desired "to 
go into politics," and he considered the appointment a good step in that direction. 




With Benjamin Harrison in the White House, Roosevelt's hopes soared for 
a return to public life. Weary of being a private citizen, he sought for a political 
job. When Cabot Lodge approached the new Secretary of State, James G. 
Elaine, on his friend's behalf, and Blaine the same man whom Roosevelt 
and Lodge had so ardently fought in the 1884 convention spoke to the 
President about an appointment, Roosevelt wrote Lodge: "I hope you will tell 
Blaine how much I appreciate his kind expressions." The post he desired was 
that of Assistant Secretary of State, but nothing came of it. Roosevelt had to 
content himself with a much smaller job. He was offered the post of a civil 
service commissioner at a salary of $3,500 a year, and he accepted it. 

Roosevelt had strong feelings about corruption in government and the spoils 
system. He was an ardent fighter for civil-service reforms. "No republic can 
permanently endure when its politics are corrupt and base; and the spoils sys- 
tem, the application in politics of the degrading doctrine that to the victor be- 
long the spoils, produces corruption and degradation. The man who is in 
politics for the offices might just as well be in politics for the money he can get 
for his vote, so far as the general good is concerned," he wrote for Scribner's Maga- 
zine in August 1895. And he said: "The spoils-monger and spoils-seeker invari- 
ably breed the bribe-taker and bribe-giver, the embezzler of public funds, and 
the corrupter of voters. Civil-service reform is not merely a movement to better 
the public service. It achieves this end, too; but its main purpose is to raise the 
tone of public life, and it is in this direction that its effects have been of incal- 
culable good to the whole community." 

As he headed to Washington he told the press: "You can guarantee that I 
intend to hew to the line and let the chips fall where they will." And to 
nobody's surprise the chips flew thick and fast. From the day of May 13, 1889, 
when he took office, until the day of May 5, 1895, when he left his post, the 
quarters of the Civil Service Commission were in a veritable turmoil. When 
politicians attacked the commission, Roosevelt returned the attack; when they 
cut off appropriations, he retaliated by cutting off civil service examinations 
in their district. Within a few weeks the hitherto obscure commission began 
making headlines. "No longer," said Roosevelt later in recalling these times, 
"was there an apology; blow was given for blow." Although the commission 
never had the desired powers, it made "a resolute fight, and gave the widest 


publicity to the wrong doing." One of his fellow commissioners recalled: "Every 
day I went to the office it was as to an entertainment. I knew something was 
sure to turn up to make our work worthwhile, with him there." 

Irj Washington he took a small house near Connecticut Avenue, and before 
long it was a gathering place for personalities from both the political and 
cultural worlds. Henry Cabot Lodge and Cecil Spring-Rice, now attached to 
the British Embassy, were constant companions; John Hay and William 
Howard Taft, their fame yet to come, were frequent visitors, along with Henry 
Adams, whose aloof intellectualism contrasted sharply with Roosevelt's brash- 
ness. During this period, also, he came to know Rudyard Kipling and Richard 
Harding Davis, as well as James Bryce, later British ambassador, who was 
already embarked on the writing of his monumental The American Common- 
wealth. Kipling used to go with Roosevelt to the Cosmos Club. "I curled up 
on the seat opposite," he said, "and listened and wondered until the universe 
seemed to be spinning around and Theodore was the spinner." And in the 
hours spared from civil service work and Washington social currents Roose- 
velt continued to work on the third and final volume of The Winning of the 
West, to be published in the fall of 1894. In a chatty letter to his sister 
he described his life in the capital: 

"Washington is just a big village, but it is a very pleasant big village. Edith 
and I meet just the people we like to see. This winter we have had a most 
pleasant time, socially and officially. All I have minded is that, though my 
work is pleasant, I have had to keep at it so closely that I never get any exer- 
cise save an occasional ride with Cabot. We dine out three or four times a 
week, and have people to dinner once or twice; so that we hail the two or 
three evenings when we are alone at home, and can talk and read, or Edith 
sews while I make ineffective bolts at my third volume. The people we meet 
are mostly those who stand high in the political world, and who are therefore 
interested in the same subjects that interest us; while there are enough who 
are men of letters or of science to give a pleasant and needed variety. Then 
besides our formal dinners, we are on terms of informal intimacy in houses 
like the Cabots, the Storers, the Wolcotts and Henry Adams. It is pleasant 
to meet people from whom one really gets spmething; people from all over 
the Union, with different pasts and varying interests, trained, able, powerful 
men, though often narrow minded enough." 

It was not long before he was entangled in a fight with John Wanamaker, 
the New York store owner, who, in return for his generous contribution to the 
Republican chest, had been appointed Postmaster General. Wanamaker 
insisted that the President "give full weight to the congressional claims of 
patronage." And Harrison, respectful of Wanamaker's munificence, was 
inclined to defer. But Roosevelt, shocked by the fact that in the first year of 
Wanamaker's term no less than thirty thousand postmasters had been dismissed 
and replaced with "deserving" Republicans, undertook an investigation of cor- 
ruption in the Baltimore Post Office and recommended dismissing twenty-five of 
the Wanamaker appointees. "Damn Wanamaker!" Roosevelt shouted when no 
newspaperman was within earshot. Eventually the charges were investigated 


and affirmed by the House Civil Service Committee. The incident dismayed 
President Harrison; he felt Roosevelt had gone too far. 

Roosevelt despised Harrison's attitude toward civil-service reform. After 
a talk with the President, he exclaimed: "Heavens, how I like positive men!" 
At another time he complained that the President "actually refuses to con- 
sider the changes in the rules which are necessary to enable us to do our work 
effectively. He has never given us one ounce of real backing. He won't see us, 
or consider any method for improving the service, even when it in no way 
touches a politician. It is horribly disheartening to work under such a Chief." 
But when Harrison was asked about Roosevelt, he said: "The only trouble I 
ever had managing him" was that "he wanted to put an end to all the evil in 
the world between sunrise and sunset." 

Not only the President incurred Roosevelt's displeasure. His temper rose 
sharply whenever he crossed swords with men whom he thought dishonest. 
"He is a liar and a coward, and as soon as I get back I shall write him an 
open letter telling him so," he wrote about one (Grosvenor), and about an- 
other (Carlisle): "He is dishonest, untruthful and cowardly." 

In the evenings Roosevelt read voraciously books, magazines, everything. 
And if he disliked what he read, he let out a yell that reverberated in the ears 
of his friends and his family. Thus, after reading a story by Henry James in 
the London Yellow Book, he wrote his sister: "I think it represents the last stage 
of degradation. What a miserable little snob Henry James is. His polished, 
pointless, uninteresting stories about the upper social classes of England make 
one blush to think that he was once an American. The rest of the book is sim- 
ply diseased. I turned to a story of Kipling's with the feeling of getting into 
fresh, healthy, out-of-doors life." 

He thought that Hamlin Garland was faulty in his reasoning about the 
great literary figures of the past. "He is entirely wrong in thinking that Shake- 
speare, Homer and Milton are not permanent. Of course they are!" But in his 
main thesis Garland was right, wrote Roosevelt to his friend Brander Matthews. 
"We must strike out for ourselves; we must work according to our own ideas, 
and must free ourselves from the shackles of conventionality, before we can 
do anything." 

In the presidential election of 1892, Grover Cleveland won over Harrison. 
Roosevelt, who had assailed Cleveland as an enemy of civil service reforms, 
must have been wondering whether the Democratic President would hold 
that against him. "I had thought of trying to see Mr. Cleveland but came to 
the conclusion that this would be an unwarrantable intrusion on my part as 
he must now be overwhelmed with visitors," he wrote to Carl Schurz, "but I 
should like to see you who stand so close to him and to tell you exactly how 
the civil service question appears to me here." 

But when Carl Schurz saw the President on Roosevelt's behalf, Cleveland 
was most cordial. So Roosevelt went to see him "and had a very pleasant half 
hour's chat with him." Soon Cleveland asked Roosevelt "to stay for a year or 
two longer," and Roosevelt consented happily. For another three years he re- 
mained on the job. Not until the spring of 1895 did he leave Washington. 







"Bosses of the Senate," Joseph Keppler's famous car- 
toon in Puck, shows a row of huge human-headed 
money bags as the real powers behind the Upper 
House. "This is the Senate of the monopolists, by the 
monopolists and for the monopolists" reads the sign 
on the wall hardly an exaggeration. All the big 
trusts had their subservient agents. The oil trust had 
its senators, as had the railroads, the manufacturing 
and the lumber interests, the insurance and utility 
companies. Thus, for instance, J. Donald Cameron, 
of Pennsylvania, looked after the welfare of the 
Pennsylvania Railroad; Arthur Pue Gorman, of 
Maryland, after the Central Maryland Railroad; 
William B. Allison, of Iowa, after the railroads which 
ran through his state; while Nelson W. Aldrich, of 

Rhode Island, was a mouthpiece of large manu- 
facturing companies. 

The public regarded the Senate as a club of rich 
men and rightly so. In that august body sat a num- 
ber of millionaires men like Leland Stanford of 
California, John P. Jones of Nevada, Johnson N. 
Camden of West Virginia who were not hesitant 
to vote upon issues in which they had a personal 
financial interest. If a man had enough money he 
could buy a Senate seat. Senatofs were not yet 
elected by popular vote; they were named by the 
state legislatures, and legislators could be bought 
wholesale. Thus, as the cartoonist points out, all the 
monopolies had their representatives, while the 
people's entrance (on the left) was tightly closed. 



the Civil Service Commission, Theodore Roosevelt 
said: "I have made this commission a living force." 
To political opponents he replied "that as long as I 
am responsible the law should be enforced up to the 
handle everywhere, fearlessly, and honestly." 

As a civil service commissioner, Roosevelt kept 
himself in the public eye. His name was constantly 
in the newspapers, and the press reported his pro- 
nouncements and quarrels with great glee. Roosevelt 
knew how to put across his ideas so that everyone 
could understand them. And despite the coolness of 
President Harrison (seen in this amusing Dalrymple 
cartoon holding "the brave little giant killer" on a 

leash) and the regular politicians toward him, both 
press and public relished what one observer termed 
"the spectacle of a man holding a minor and rather 
nondescript office, politically unimportant, taking 
a cabinet officer by the neck and exposing him to 
the amused contempt of all honest Americans." 

In the year of 1889 when he became a civil serv- 
ice commissioner, there were only 21,000 federal 
employees under the commissioners' jurisdiction, 
but Roosevelt tackled his work as if it were the most 
important in the whole federal government. He 
took a forthright stand on the issues, attacking any- 
one who was in his way, speaking and writing arti- 
cles publicizing the need for civil service reform. 



Theodore Roosevelt at the 
time he served as civil serv- 
ice commissioner. With him 
is his eldest son, Theodore, 
Jr., who was born in 1887. 


The photograph of this baby 
was taken by J. F. Klinger in 
Braunau, Austria, roughly 
about the same period as the 
large one of Roosevelt with 
his son. It is the first por- 
trait of a child born on 
April 20, 1889 who caused a 
great deal of upheaval in the 
next century Adolf Hitler. 





"When Stanley carried the first steamboat up the 
Congo," reads the caption under this Louis Dalrym- 
ple cartoon in Puck, "the natives ran along the 
banks, yelling with rage, and striving to check his 
progress by throwing stones and other missiles. Mr. 
Stanley got there, just the same." 

In the cartoon Roosevelt plays the role of explorer 
Stanley, while the natives are public men who are 
trying to check his progress. In the background, from 
left to right: Senator William Mahone, who con- 
trolled the patronage of Virginia; "Corporal" James 
Tanner, the Commissioner of Pensions, in whose 
opinion "nothing was too good for an old soldier"; 
Vice-President Levi P. Morton; Secretary of War 
Redfield Proctor; Colonel Dudley, the treasurer of 
the Republican National Committee; Senator Mat- 
thew Quay of Pennsylvania, the boss of his state's 
political machine. 

In the foreground: Secretary of State James G. 
Elaine; President Benjamin Harrison; Charles An- 
derson Dana, the eccentric editor of the New York 
Sun, who said that civil service was "a German 
bureaucratic system"; Postmaster General John 
Wanamaker and First Assistant Postmaster General 
James S. Clarkson, under whom in a single year 
thirty thousand Democratic fourth-class postmasters 
were replaced by Republicans; and, finally, Thomas 
Platt, head of New York's political machine. 

Roosevelt as a civil service commissioner was both 
lauded and criticized. Some of his admirers said that 
after he took the post, "order began to appear out of 
chaos" and that members of Congress "went stagger- 
ing from a contact with the Commission," while his 
critics held that he talked big but accomplished little. 
It is true that Roosevelt kept himself steadily in the 
limelight, but his speeches, his quarrels and his arti- 
cles were to publicize the weaknesses of the civil serv- 
ice laws. Roosevelt and his fellow commissioners took 
effective action on many occasions 'to improve bad 
situations, and the office was administered impar- 
tially, honestly, and with unselfish devotion. Roose- 
velt's work focused the interest of the people on 
a much needed civil service reform; if he did noth- 
ing more, this was an important contribution. 



The expenditures of the Fifty-first Congress from 
December 2, 1889, to March 3, 1891 ran to more 
than a billion dollars. When Democrats called it the 
"Billion-dollar Congress," House Speaker Thomas 
B. Reed replied brusquely, "Yes, but this is a billion- 
dollar country." 

President Harrison allowed his administration to 
become subservient to special interests. Under him 
pension and tariff legislation cut deep into the sur- 
plus. The Disability Pension Act of 1890 authorized 
pensions to any veterans deemed unable to perform 
manual labor, whether or not the disability was the 
result of military service. The Grand Army of the 
Republic, which pressured the law into existence, 
acknowledged that it was "the most liberal pension 
measure ever passed by any legislative body in the 

As to the tariff, Congressman William McKinley 
of Ohio, the chairman of the House Ways and Means 
Committee, introduced a bill that demonstrated con- 
clusively the businessmen's domination over govern- 
ment. Duties were increased on almost all articles of 
household consumption. "Cheap merchandise," said 
McKinley, "means cheap men, and cheap men 
means cheap country; and that is not the kind of 
government our fathers followed, and it is not the 
kind their sons mean to follow." And while the 
American people were forced to pay high prices for 


Senator John James Ingalls was the President pro 
tempore of the Senate; Congressman William Mc- 
Kinley, who introduced a highly protective tariff act; 

consumer goods, the earning power of the workers 
and farmers remained the same as before. 

As the mid-term election of 1890 approached, the 
Democrats had three telling campaign issues: 1 . They 
charged the Republicans with extravagant spending 
(annual appropriations for pensions had increased 



Senator George F. Hoar, whose "Force Bill" was to 
provide supervisipn of federal elections in the South; 
Senator Matthew Quay, from Pennsylvania, the ruth- 

less machine politician, and Thomas B. Reed, Speaker 
of the House of Representatives, who ruled that body 
with an iron hand and was referred to as the "Czar." 

during Harrison's term by leaps and bounds); 2. fo- 
menting sectionalism (the Republican "Force Bill," 
which passed the House but failed in the Senate, 
provided for supervision of elections in the South so 
that the Negroes should not be deprived of the vote); 
3. surrender to the trusts (citing the high provisions of 

the McKinley Tariff Act). 

The country agreed with such arguments. The 
Republicans suffered a disastrous defeat; they lost 
control in the House and barely kept their majority in 
the Senate. The Fifty-second Congress was composed 
of 235 Democrats but only 88 Republicans. 


ECONOMIC DISCONTENT. In the beginning of 
July 1892 resentment between labor and manage- 
ment culminated in pitched battles between striking 
steelworkers at Carnegie's Homestead Plant in Penn- 
sylvania and those who were engaged by the com- 
pany to subdue the strike. Henry Clay Frick, the 
company's general manager, in an effort to wipe out 
the Amalgamated Association of Iron and Steel 
Workers, ordered a wage cut. When the workers 
called a strike, Frick hired three hundred Pinkerton 
men to break it. As these men descended the Mo- 

nongahela in barges, they were spotted by the strikers, 
who opened fire on them. For the next days the plant 
and its environs were scenes of violence, with many 
dead and wounded. With the calling of eight thou- 
sand National Guardsmen, the strike was broken. 
Public indignation against Carnegie and Frick (who 
had been wounded by an anarchist bullet) ran high 
and reacted against the Republican party; in the 
forthcoming presidential election the Republican 
Benjamin Harrison lost out to Grover Cleveland, 
once more the candidate of the Democratic party. 


the nineties saw the birth of a colorful third party 
the Populists. Born of bitter poverty on the Mid- 
western and Southern farms, the People's party (the 
official name of the Populists) represented a protest 
against a government which stood aside while the 
agricultural depression hit the farms and which did 
little to curb the abuses of the trusts. 

The Populists held out a promise to all those who 
cried for reforms; farmer and labor organizations 
were brought under the same banner to fight united 

for their rights. In the ranks of the new party were 
members of the Farmers' Alliance, of the Knights of 
Labor; Greenbackers, single-tax men, socialists, suf- 
fragettes, free silverites. Gillam called his hostile 
cartoon 'The Party of Patches." Its leaders, driven 
by an almost religious fanaticism, ranged from Mary 
Ellen Lease, who urged farmers to "raise less corn 
and more hell," and Ignatius Donnelly, who agitated 
for the rights of man, to William Jennings Bryan, the 
silver-tongued orator from Nebraska, who was to lead 
the movement to its greatest heights a few years later. 


CLEVELAND IS PRESIDENT AGAIN. He was James B. Weaver, received over a million votes. In 

re-elected with 277 electoral votes against Benjamin 
Harrison's 145. Such was the dissatisfaction with the 
policies of Harrison that the Populists' candidate, 

this superb photograph of the March 4, 1893, inau- 
gural, the outgoing President Harrison (on the right 
of Cleveland) protects his ears from the chilly winds. 




Cleveland's second administration started off poorly. Weeks before his 
inauguration, a wildly fluctuating securities market hoisted economic storm 
signals. Late in February the Philadelphia and Reading Railroad had to de- 
clare bankruptcy. With the collapse of the National Cordage Company, a 
great trust so irresponsibly managed that it announced a large cash dividend 
in the very month in which it went under, the stage for the panic was set. 
Within six months the Erie, Northern Pacific, Union Pacific, and Santa Fe 
railroads were in the hands of receivers, and a wave of bank failures had swept 
the South and West. By the end of the year there had been some 15,000 bank- 
ruptcies involving liabilities of more than one third of a billion dollars, while 
in the cities and mill towns four million people were out of work. It was a finan- 
cial depression of great magnitude. 

Why should a country so prosperous slide into the doldrums of economic 
distress? One underlying cause of the trouble was the money question, an issue 
which had been simmering for a quarter of a century and was now ready to 
boil over. There were two contrasting views: on the one side were those who 
demanded the free coinage of silver so that the money in circulation could be 
increased, on the other side those who desired to hold on to the single gold 
standard. In reality "the battle of standards," as this struggle became known, 
was the contest for power between the agrarian South and West against the 
industrial East the final chapter in the historic tug-of-war between the 
Jeffersonian and Hamiltonian concepts of government. 

Roosevelt as his letters of this period show seemed unconcerned with the 
economic problems of the day. He directed his attention to the work of the 
Civil Service Commission, improving the laws and investigating the inequities 
and irregularities. His life in Washington ran on an even keel. He went to par- 
ties, saw his friends, found enjoyment in his growing family. And he kept on 
working on his historical study of The Winning of the West. 

And while he immersed himself in his work, the debate in the country on 
the issue of inflation or deflation hard money or soft money proceeded. That 
the argument turned into gold versus silver was simply because the amount of 
currency was limited by the amount of gold available to redeem the paper 
money. The United States was under the gold standard, and while between 
1860 and 1890 world gold production had remained static, at the same time 
America's population had doubled. This caused great hardship to all those who 
worked for their living, to all those who were compelled to borrow money, to 


all those who had to take mortgages. As farm prices and prices of goods were 
down, the debtor class had to work harder and longer to repay their obliga- 
tions. Thus, a Western farmer who took a $5000 mortgage on his farm after 
the Civil War the equivalent of 2500 bushels of wheat had to produce 5000 
bushels of wheat to repay the loan twenty years later. 

From the West came the cry that there was not enough money in circulation, 
therefore it was suggested that the government should allow the free, unlimited 
coinage of silver, as this would increase the supply of money without a large- 
scale inflation a certain result if the government were to print greenbacks 
unsecured by bullion of any kind. In their demand for free silver the farmers 
were supported by the silver mine operators, who were producing a steadily 
increasing supply of the metal and were eager to sell it to the government. 

President Cleveland held that the Sherman Silver Purchase Act of 1890 was 
one of the main causes for the depression, as that law had shaken the confi- 
dence of the business interests, thus he pleaded for its repeal. A special session 
of Congress granted the request, but it turned out to be a Pyrrhic victory for 
the President. It split the ranks of the Democrats, the silver wing of the party 
opposing Cleveland's policies and denouncing him as a tool of Wall Street. 

However, the repeal of the Sherman Silver Purchase Act had no effect on 
the depression. The drain on the nation's gold reserves became alarming; the 
federal surplus which had caused concern four years earlier had disappeared 
like the snows of yesterday. Because of the high tariff rates, the income of the 
government dwindled; where for years there had been a surplus, there was now 
a deficit. And when Cleveland tried to remedy the tariff schedules, protection- 
ist Democrats in the Senate joined the Republicans in so many crippling 
amendments that the President termed the resultant Wilson-Gorman Act a 
product of "party perfidy." He sought to bolster federal revenues with a two 
per cent tax on incomes above $4000, but the tax was declared unconstitutional 
by a 5-4 decision of the Supreme Court. The Republicans who were against 
the income tax measure were well pleased with themselves. Senator John 
Sherman of Ohio declared that the High Court had saved the nation from 
"socialism, communism, devilism." 

"The year of 1894, the year of the Wilson tariff and the income tax decision, 
was the darkest that Americans had known for thirty years," say Morison and 
Commager in their The Growth of the American Republic. Unemployment reached 
a new high, bread lines lengthened, farm prices continued a downward spiral. 
" Everything seemed to conspire to convince the people that democracy was a 
failure. Prices and wages hit rock bottom, and there seemed to be no market 
for anything. Half a million laborers struck against conditions which they 
thought intolerable, and most of the strikes were dismal failures. Ragged and 
hungry bands of unemployed swarmed over the countryside, the fires from their 
hobo camps flickering a message of warning and despair to affrighted towns- 
folk. Coxey's army, consisting of broken veterans of the armies of industry, 
inspired by the pathetic delusion that a 'petition on boots' might bring relief, 
marched on Washington where they were arrested for trespassing on the Capitol 


grounds a charge which somehow was never preferred against the silk-hatted 
lobbyists who presented their petitions for higher tariffs. The corn crop was a 
failure; wheat fell below fifty cents a bushel, cotton to six cents a pound, and 
bitterness swept over the West like a prairie fire. Never did the government 
seem more unfriendly, or democratic processes more futile. The Pullman workers 
struck for a living wage, and every agency of the government was enlisted to 
smash the strike. Representatives of the people in the lower House tried to 
reduce tariff duties, and representatives of privilege in the Senate made a farce 
of the effort. Congress passed an anti-trust law and it was enforced not against 
the trusts but against labor unions; when the great Sugar Trust was finally called 
into court, the Attorney-General of the United States sabotaged the prosecu- 
tion. Congress enacted an income tax and it was voided in the highest court. 
And the President sold bonds to Wall Street, while silver, the poor man's friend, 
was disinherited and disgraced!" 

The distressing economic conditions brought a devastating Republican sweep 
in the midterm election, a hopeful augury for winning the Presidency in 1896. 

Roosevelt seemed strangely aloof from all the turmoil. He seemed apart 
from his civil service job more interested in personal than in public matters. 
The behavior of his brother Elliott, who could not resist the bottle, disturbed 
him. "He can't be helped," he wrote to his sister Anna, "and he must simply 
be let go his own gait. He is now laid up from a serious fall; while drunk he 
drove into a lamp post and went out on his head. Poor fellow! if only he could 
have died instead of Anna." (Anna was Elliott's wife Eleanor Roosevelt's 
mother.) And he told Corinne, his younger sister: "It is very sad about Elliott, 
but there is literally nothing to do. After a certain number of years and trials 
no one can help another." His attitude seemed callous and showed little under- 
standing of his brother's problems. But when Elliott died in August, he wrote 
to Corinne: "There is one great comfort I already feel; I only need to have 
pleasant thoughts of Elliott now. He is just the gallant, generous, manly boy 
and young man whom everyone loved. I can think of him when you and I and 
he used to go round 'exploring' the hotels, the time we were first in Europe; 
do you remember how we used to do it? and then in the days of the dancing 
class, when he was distinctly the polished man-of-the-world from outside. . . . 
Or when we were off on his little sailing boat for a two or three days trip on 
the Sound; or when he first hunted; and when he visited me at Harvard." 

In his post on the Civil Service Commission Roosevelt ardently fought 
for his beliefs. "I don't know that anyone will be fool enough to do as much 
fighting as I have done," he wrote to a friend. He felt that the entire Cabinet 
was down on him, though "I have purposely refrained under the present 
administration from making fights which I should have made under the last, 
because there continually come up cases which I would be willing to take up 
with ferocity were the offenders of my own party, but where I fear I can do 
no good as they are not." 

Still, his heart was no longer in his job. He was looking for new horizons. 



Americans are sensitive about foreign influence and foreign criticism. During the nine- 
teenth century, and until the end of World War I, the United States was a debtor nation, with 
its bonds sold in Europe and held by English, German, and other foreign financiers. Many 
Americans held that the bankers of England bled white free enterprise in the United States. 
The above cartoon in Puck gives vent to these feelings. 

If a foreigner was critical, it was resented. When Theodore Roosevelt entertained the 
English writer Rudyard Kipling at dinner and Kipling used critical language, Roosevelt 
would have none of it. "Kipling is an underbred little fellow," he wrote to his sister Anna 
after the incident, "with a tendency to criticize America to which I put a stop by giving 
him a very rough handling . . ." The nation was young and needed approval, not criticism. 



At the beginning of President 
Cleveland's administration in 1893, 
the gold reserve had dwindled below 
the dangerous $100,000,000 mark; 
by the end of the year it was down 
to $75,000,000. To remedy the situa- 
tion the Treasury issued $50,000,000 
in bonds payable in gold. 

When the date of payment for the 
first installment arrived, the bond 
buyers withdrew gold from the 
banks, and the banks depleted of 
their gold resources sent their notes 
to the Treasury, asking for replen- 
ishment of their gold supplies. Thus 
in an "endless chain" financial in- 
stitutions took gold from the Treas- 
ury, gave it to their customers, who 
then returned it to the Treasury. 
This vicious circle was not halted 
until late in 1896 when the election 
of the Republican William McKin- 
ley to the presidency restored the con- 
fidence of the financial community. 

In this cartoon President Cleve- 
land heats the gold reserve thermom- 
eter with bonds, hoping it will rise. 


The Sherman Silver Purchase Act 
of 1890 became law when eastern 
Republicans traded their votes for 
western support of the McKinley 
tariff bill. The deal consummated, 
the Treasury was compelled to buy 
4,500,000 ounces of silver each 
month to make into coin. But when 
the depression of 1893 hit the coun- 
try, President Cleveland pointed to 
the Sherman Silver Purchase Act 
as one of the main causes for the 
nation's economic distress. Calling 
Congress into a special session, he 
demanded the Act's unconditional 
repeal. By adroit use of his patron- 
age powers, he succeeded. The New 
York Times commended him for his 
"iron firmness" and for saving the 
country from fiscal ruin. 

This cartoon, by Louis Dalrymple, 
appeared in Puck in September 1893. 



; , ' Uutt* SAM. 1 fr*n I That fetter w't eem to let me atone 1 11 her to lire Mm wit ttf\*l 


Americans are sensitive about foreign influence and foreign criticism. During the nine- 
teenth century, and until the end of World War I, the United States was a debtor nation, with 
its bonds sold in Europe and held by English, German, and other foreign financiers. Many 
Americans held that the bankers of England bled white free enterprise in the United States. 
The above cartoon in Puck gives vent to these feelings. 

If a foreigner was critical, it was resented. When Theodore Roosevelt entertained the 
English writer Rudyard Kipling at dinner and Kipling used critical language, Roosevelt 
would have none of it. "Kipling is an underbred little fellow," he wrote to his sister Anna 
after the incident, "with a tendency to criticize America to which I put a stop by giving 
him a very rough handling . . ." The nation was young and needed approval, not criticism. 



At the beginning of President 
Cleveland's administration in 1893, 
the gold reserve had dwindled below 
the dangerous $100,000,000 mark; 
by the end of the year it was down 
to $75,000,000. To remedy the situa- 
tion the Treasury issued $50,000,000 
in bonds payable in gold. 

When the date of payment for the 
first installment arrived, the bond 
buyers withdrew gold from the 
banks, and the banks depleted of 
their gold resources sent their notes 
to the Treasury, asking for replen- 
ishment of their gold supplies. Thus 
in an "endless chain" financial in- 
stitutions took gold from the Treas- 
ury, gave it to their customers, who 
then returned it to the Treasury. 
This vicious circle was not halted 
until late in 1896 when the election 
of the Republican William McKin- 
ley to the presidency restored the con- 
fidence of the financial community. 

In this cartoon President Cleve- 
land heats the gold reserve thermom- 
eter with bonds, hoping it will rise. 



The Sherman Silver Purchase Act 
of 1890 became law when eastern 
Republicans traded their votes for 
western support of the McKinley 
tariff bill. The deal consummated, 
the Treasury was compelled to buy 
4,500,000 ounces of silver each 
month to make into coin. But when 
the depression of 1893 hit the coun- 
try, President Cleveland pointed to 
the Sherman Silver Purchase Act 
as one of the main causes for the 
nation's economic distress. Calling 
Congress into a special session, he 
demanded the Act's unconditional 
repeal. By adroit use of his patron- 
age powers, he succeeded. The New 
York Times commended him for his 
"iron firmness" and for saving the 
country from fiscal ruin. 

This cartoon, by Louis Dalrymple, 
appeared in Puck in September 1893. 



The depression of 1893 brought unemployment, 
lockouts, wage cuts. Jobless men formed into "armies" 
with "generals" as their leaders. 

In April 1894, "General" Jacob S. Coxey, a 
wealthy quarry owner from Massillon, Ohio (sitting 
in the carriage), led such a band of unemployed to 


Washington, where he demanded that Congress ; f 
issue five hundred million dollars of legal tender ^ J 
notes for the building of roads as a remedy for un- 
employment (used four decades later by Franklin D. 
Roosevelt). Coxey's march ended in ridicule when 
police arrested him for trespassing on the Capitol lawn. 


came about when the Pullman Palace Car Company, 
using the depression as an excuse, reduced workers' 
wages to a minimum. The American Railway Union, 
headed by energetic Eugene V. Debs, demanded 

arbitration of the wage issue; when the request was 
refused, the union forbade its members to handle 
Pullman cars. By the end of June 1894 from Ohio to 
California trains lay idle; strikers and federal troops 
fought all along the railroad lines. 

tecting the mails in Chicago. 
Illinois Governor Peter Altgeld 
protested their presence, but 
President Cleveland exclaimed: 
"If it takes the entire army and 
navy of the United States to 
deliver a postal card in Chicago, 
that card will be delivered/' 

Though their union urged the 
strikers to refrain from violence, 
trains were ditched, buildings 
burned, property destroyed. A 
federal court issued a blanket in- 
junction against the labor leaders 
for obstructing the mails. With the 
arrest of Debs, and other union 
leaders, the strike was broken. 







xo&tmrmiT MIX* WA*. 

Better, He *)**, Tfcsm Faam witfc teaaef 

President Rooee^ltof th* Police Board said 
this morning regarding the Preaidattt'a mesaaje 
on the Venezuelan question: 

" t cannot too heartily praise (fee admirable 
mesaage of President Ctareia^l Mo a*d Secre- 
tary Olney deserve the utmost oredH, X am 
delighted that the Houe anil Senate roii t* fee 
level of the occasion and acted, in a spirit of 
broadminddd patriotism. 

*' The otaenoa ot tha Monroe doctrine ia that 
the European powers shall not be parmittad to 
inoroaaa their territorkson ajaertoatt toll at the 
expense ot independent American States. Great 
Britain Is .now seeking to do tats very thing at 
tha expanse of Vanavuela, and wa could not 
, submit to it without; loaa of national self- 

" People talk of ralytoff upon England's honor 
and falroindadnaei aa a auficiant guarantee 
that. aha ;wiU notjwrong Venezuela. I hat* 
never shared tha popular dislike of &n*Wmd, 
but I have also nersr shared in thoaa delusions 
about her which, though not [ popular, arf in 
some quarters faahionable.l England never lata 
a consideration of abstract right or morality 
interfere with tha chance for her national air* 
grandiaamant or maroantile gain. 

41 I earnest!/ hopa that neither tha Chamber 
of Commerce nor any other body of reputable 
citiaani will do anything that can even be con- 
strued into a failure to support to the fullest 
extent the American aide of the pending ques- 
tion. And I would like to aay right here .that 
the talk of British fleets ransoming American 
cities is too foolish to ma for serious considera- 
tion. American cities may possibly be bom- 
barded, but no rannorn will be paid for them. 

44 It is infinitely better to see the cities laid 
level tnan to see a dollar paid to any foreign 
foe to buy their safety. Moreover, a great 
many of our friends, in speaking of our naval 
weakness, seem to forget that we wiU settle |ho 
Venezuela questlon,not in Venezue lafror yet 0* 
the sea coast, but in Canada. Wo might suffer 
a check or two at first, but in time, and that a 
very snort time, Canada would Huroly be oon- 
quered and, once wrested from England, it 
would never be restored. 

" I hope there will be no backdown. We 
should stand right up to the portion we nave 
taken. No consideration, personal, political or 
financial, should influence any of our people. 
We should stand right behind the President and 
Congress and demand that the position we have 
assumed shall be kept atr ull hazard*. We 
earnestly hope that there will bo no war, but 
far worse than any war would be a peace pur- 
chased at the coat of any loea of national self- 


In a statement on the Venezuela dispute, he said 
that if England dared to attack the United States, 
America would march into Canada and occupy it. 


When, in 1886, Great Britain declared that some 
23,000 square miles of territory containing valuable 
mineral deposits belonged to the British colony of 
Guiana and not the South American republic of 
Venezuela, war between England and Venezuela 
seemed to be in the making. As the Monroe Doc- 
trine of 1823 had guaranteed the integrity of the 
Latin- American republics, the United States was not 
willing to allow Great Britain to use armed inter- 
vention in the Western Hemisphere. 


At the request of Venezuela, America offered to 
arbitrate, but Lord Salisbury, the head of the 
English government, rejected the offer. 

In July 1895 Secretary of State Richard Olney 
sent a sharply worded note to the English govern- 
ment, telling Salisbury that the United States "is 
practically a sovereign on this continent, and its fiat 
is law upon the subjects to which it confines its 
interposition," so it would "resist any sequestration 
of Venezuelan soil by Great Britain." As Lord Salis- 
bury was unbending, President Cleveland sent 

another message to Congress suggesting an American 
commission which should hand down a decision on 
the boundary issue. Congress followed Cleveland's 
proposal and appropriated $100,000 for the expenses 
of such commission. Lord Salisbury, realizing that 
the United States would not soften its attitude, 
changed the tune and declared his willingness to 
submit the boundary claim to arbitration. On 
October 3, 1899, a tribunal which assembled at Paris 
settled the dispute, on the whole favorably for Great 



The board had four members two of them, Avery 
D. Andrews and Andrew D. Parker, were Democrats; 
the other two, Theodore Roosevelt and Frederick D. 
Grant, the son of President Grant, were Republicans. 
Roosevelt took office the first week in May 1895; 
a few days later he wrote to his sister: "I have never 
worked harder than in these last six days; and it is 
very worrying and harassing, for I have to deal with 
three colleagues, solve terribly difficult problems, 
and do my work under hampering laws. If the 
Legislature will only give us power to remove our 

subordinates without appeal to the courts I know we 
can make a thorough and radical reform; without 
such power we can improve matters a great deal, 
but we cannot do what we ought to do. But I am 
absorbed in the work and am very glad I came on. 
It is well worth doing. So far I get on well with my 
three colleagues. I have rarely left the office until 
six in the evenings." 

Soon it seemed to the public that the police board 
had only one member picturesque, flamboyant, 
energetic, never-resting, thirty-six-year-old Theodore 
Roosevelt, battling with police corruption. 




In April 1895, after William L. Strong, a reform-minded businessman, 
became mayor of New York, Roosevelt was named president of the city's four- 
man Police Board, or Police Commissioner, as the post was popularly called. 

The job was no easy one. "It is absolutely impossible to do what is expected 
of me," he confided to his sister. "The conditions will not allow it. I must make 
up my mind to much criticism and disappointment." There was no denying 
that corruption under Tammany's auspices was rampant and that much of it 
centered in the Police Department. Appointments to the force, and promotions 
as well, were paid for in cash. Gambling houses and bordellos had virtual immu- 
nity as long as the police captain of the district received his weekly bribe. 

Roosevelt's tour of duty started off hopefully. Within weeks Tom Byrnes, 
the superintendent of police who admitted to a personal fortune of $300,000, 
was ousted despite thirty-two years of service. "We have a real police commis- 
sioner," wrote Arthur Brisbane in the New York World. "He makes our police- 
men feel as the little froggies did when the stork came to rule over them." 

As always, one of Roosevelt's most potent weapons for reform was publicity, 
and he used it adroitly. Not content to sit at Police Headquarters on Mulberry 
Street, he spent much of his time making the rounds of the outlying beats to 
check up on his force in action. Most celebrated of all were his nighttime excur- 
sions, which were often made in evening clothes after attending a dinner party 
and in which he was usually accompanied by Jacob Riis, the reform-bent 
newspaper reporter whose book How the Other Half Lives had first awakened 
Roosevelt to the New York tenement problem some years earlier. Often they 
would prowl the streets till dawn, alert for oolicemen who had strayed off their 
beats, had fallen asleep on duty, or had committed some even greater offense; 
and often they watched a policeman's truculence suddenly transformed into 
stammering apologies when the victim realized that he was talking to the police 
commissioner rather than to an over-inquisitive private citizen. On one occa- 
sion, the newspapers related, Roosevelt came upon a thirsty policeman quaffing 
a glass of beer at the door of a saloon and immediately gave chase, catching 
the miscreant by the scruff of the neck half a block away and ordering him to 
stand trial the following day. The work, he told his sister happily, was "emi- 
nently practical; it has not a touch of the academic." 

The analogy between these nocturnal exploits and the legends of the prowl- 
ing caliph of Baghdad quickly earned the commissioner the nickname of 
Haroun al Roosevelt among reporters. It also earned him high praise from their 
newspapers, and, indeed, from newspapers throughout the nation. Although 


his wide-brimmed hat and prominent molars were commonly pictured by car- 
toonists as the most dreaded of sights for any pavement-pounding policeman 
in New York, he commanded the respect of many if not most of the abler and 
more honest men on the force. "Hardihood and courage," he later recalled, 
"were the qualities upon which we insisted and which we rewarded." Patrol- 
men who distinguished themselves were repaid with promotion, and others 
whose long and honorable service had gone unrewarded for want of political 
connections found their path to advancement no longer blocked. Roosevelt 
was bringing the first glimmerings of a merit system to the New York police. 

Despite the initial and substantial victories, however, the new commissioner's 
popularity began to fade within a year of his arrival at Mulberry Street. The 
cause of the eclipse, ironically, was his determination to enforce a law about 
which he was not enthusiastic and which he felt must be enforced only because 
laxity was breeding corruption. 

The law in question required that all saloons remain closed on Sunday 
and in practice it was honored only in the breach, for any saloon that wished 
to pay the police for the privilege was allowed to receive Sabbath-day custom- 
ers at the back door without interference. Roosevelt was no prohibitionist, but 
he was determined to stamp out this source of police corruption. "I shall pro- 
cure the enforcement of the Sunday closing law not by spurts but by steadily 
increasing rigor," he announced. "If it proves impossible to enforce it, it will 
be only after the experiment of breaking many a captain of the police in the 
endeavor to secure the enforcement has first been tried." 

Nothing could have pleased his enemies more. The Sunday drought reduced 
drunkenness, but it also deprived thousands of New Yorkers of their favorite 
Sunday relaxation. Worse, it hit hardest at the poor man, because persons of 
means were still free to drink on a Sunday at their clubs or have wine with 
their dinners at plush hotels. In vain Roosevelt protested that he was "enforc- 
ing honestly a law that hitherto has been enforced dishonestly." The politicians 
and the press contended that the Sunday saloon restriction was a "blue 
law" that was never intended to be enforced. Otherwise virtuous citizens made 
it plain that they preferred their Sunday drink to an honest police force. 
"Every discredited politician, every sensational newspaper, every timid fool 
who could be scared by clamor \vas against us," Roosevelt recalled. 

The protests took different forms. Many New Yorkers crossed the Hudson to 
do their Sunday drinking unmolested in New Jersey. There were indignant 
protest meetings at which the appointment of a new commissioner was de- 
manded. In the German section the citizenry staged a protest parade but 
made the mistake of inviting Roosevelt, who attended and all but stole the 
show with his good-humored performance. When a Tammany man protested 
that "the law should be enforced, but with intelligence and discrimination," 
Roosevelt replied: "That is a good deal like believing in truthful mendacity." 
By the end of 1895, Roosevelt was admitting to Henry Cabot Lodge that "I 
have not one New York City newspaper or one New York City politician on my 
side" and that "Whitelaw Reid was given orders that in the Tribune I am not 


to be mentioned save to attack me, unless it is unavoidable/' But he added: 
"I shall continue absolutely unmoved on my present course and shall accept 
philosophically whatever violent end may be put to my political career." 

In the end the Sunday drinking issue was settled by a compliant city magis- 
trate who ruled that drinking was permissible with meals and that any food 
whatever comprised a meal, which, as Roosevelt complained, meant that eat- 
ing one pretzel could entitle a man to seventeen beers. 

By this time, however, the commissioner's enemies were attacking on other 
fronts. At the behest of Tammany, members of the force had started trying to 
make Roosevelt look ridiculous by invoking long-forgotten blue laws at the 
expense of Sunday purveyors of flowers, shoe shines, and ice cream sodas. 
Rumors were started that ice could no longer be sold on the Sabbath, and the 
New York World fabricated a harrowing story about a woman whose child had 
died because ice was unobtainable. When, early in 1896, Roosevelt sent a let- 
ter to President Cleveland commending his strong stand on Venezuela, the 
hard-pressed Chief Executive thanked him by return mail and closed with a 
masterpiece of understatement. "It seems to me," said Cleveland, "that you 
and I have both been a little misunderstood lately." 

The misunderstandings on Mulberry Street were scarcely less frequent as 
the year progressed. Enforcement of the Sunday laws brought the already 
tense relationships within the four-member police board close to the breaking 
point. The constant bickering was "doing more to depress than elevate the 
tone of the force," said Dr. Parkhurst. Nor was the situation helped when the 
board had to face a host of new problems caused by the so-called Raines Law, 
a state act which sought to tighten regulations governing Sunday drinking in 
hotels by defining a hotel as a building with a dining room and at least ten 
bedrooms. Within the year some 2000 new "hotels" sprang up in the city 
many of them saloons which merely partitioned off ten bedrooms upstairs to 
meet the requirement for Sunday drinking and then, adding insult to injury, 
used the bedrooms for prostitution. 

By the time this crisis arose, however, Roosevelt's attention was being in- 
creasingly focused on the national political scene. In July of 1896 he offered 
his services to the political wirepuller Mark Hanna, whom he found "well- 
meaning" but "shrewd and hard-headed," and in the fall he was sent out as a 
principal stump speaker to some of the wavering sections of the Middle West. 
Although Roosevelt in later years was to embrace many of the "radical" ideas 
championed by the Democrats in 1896, he felt a deep and instinctive con- 
tempt for William Jennings Bryan and his Populist followers at the time. He 
campaigned with enthusiasm for William McKinley, the Republican candi- 
date, and likened Bryan to Jefferson Davis and to the leaders of the reign of 
terror in the French Revolution. 

The Republican campaign against Bryan and free silver brought fruit. 
William McKinley was elected by an overwhelming majority. The victory 
rewarded Roosevelt with the post of Assistant Secretary of the Navy. 


HOW THE RICH LIVED. A party at the home of Mrs. Frank Leslie, the four-times- 
married "Empress of Journalism." Her Thursday-evening receptions were a New York 
social institution. Mrs. Leslie loved men because "they are the spice of the earth," and she 
loved diamonds because "there is imprisoned in the heart of the diamond a soul." Her extra- 
marital affairs and her extravagant jewelry one necklace contained three thousand diamonds 
were the talk of the town. When she died, she left $1,000,000 to further women's suffrage. 

THE JAPANESE ROOM in William Henry Van- 
derbilt's mansion on Fifth Avenue. The building of 
the palace cost an estimated $1,750,000, the interior 
decorations executed by 600 artisans another 
$800,000. A contemporary journalist, in awe of all 
this splendor, wrote in Collier's: "The Vanderbilts 
have come nobly forward and shown the world how 
millionaires ought to live." They certainly did. And 
the world admitted to the art gallery of the man- 
sion on Thursdays gasped at the collected treasures, 
admired the seven paintings by the French artist 
Meissonier for which Vanderbilt had paid $188,000. 

HOW THE POOR LIVED. A dark alley between tenement houses in New York, the 
playground of the children of the poor, a breeding ground for typhoid fever and crime. 
The congestion in the teeming tenements of the lower East Side was estimated at 330,000 
persons per square mile. Here Russian and Poli *h Jews, who came to America to escape 
the pogroms of their native lands, crammed the buildings from garret to cellar. An investi- 
gating commission found that in some rooms there lived as many as fourteen human beings. 

people ate, slept and worked; here sick adults, 
healthy adults, sick children, healthy children lived 
together in close quarters. A French visitor wrote 
about it saying that one could "hardly endure the 
air of these shops, where the odor of ill-cared bodies 
mingled with the odor of spoiled food." For making 
a dozen pairs of children's trousers, a man was paid 
$.75; if he worked from dawn to nightfall he could 
make eighteen trousers (and this only if he was not 
losing more than one half hour for his meals and 
rest). Thus, on a good day, he earned all of $1.12. 


A metropolis, one of the largest cities in the world, 
and yet somewhat provincial. A city of wealth and 
a city of the poor. Part of it as Irish as Dublin, part 
of it as Jewish as Lemberg, part of it as Hungarian 
as Budapest, and some of it as Italian as Naples. 

Women wore their skirts to the ground, sweeping 
the pavement as they walked. Young men with in- 
comes of $5,000 or more lived in luxurious bachelor 
apartments sitting room, bedroom, bathroom 
paying $1,000 to $1,200 rent for a year, which 
included heat, light, and maid service. 

Elegant homes were furnished in oriental fashion. 
Society followed the fad of Turkish divans, brass 
coffee trays, Moorish bric-a-brac, heavy hangings, 
and soft rugs. Some of the apartments had an atmos- 
phere much more like the harems of Eastern 
potentates than homes of New Yorkers. 



;> .- *' ** \ "' 



by Thomas Nast in Harper's Weekly. "Last Sunday I 
spent in town with Jacob Riis," reported he to 
Cabot Lodge, "driving and walking about for nine 
hours to see for ourselves exactly how the Excise Law 
was enforced. I had no idea how complete our suc- 
cess was; not four percent of the saloons were open 
and these were doing business with the greatest 
secrecy and to a most limited extent. We have 
really won a great triumph so far ... The World 
?nd Journal nearly have epilepsy over me; and they 
are united in portraying me as spending my 
Sundays heavily in the Union League Club." 
Roosevelt was not a prohibitionist, but he saw 
that the violation of the Excise Law led to extortion 
by the police. And as he proceeded with the enforce- 
ment, his zeal and enthusiasm grew. 

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FIFTH AVENUE and corner Fifty-ninth Street in 
1895, at the time Roosevelt was police commissioner 
of the city. The streets were still quiet and New 
Yorkers were not yet in a hurry. They strolled 
leisurely along the Avenue, dressed in their best 
clothes. One could still cross the Square without 
fear of coming to harm from the traffic. 



as caricatured in the New York Herald by C. G. Bush. 
Father Knickerbocker peeved because the law 
which forbade saloonkeepers to sell liquor on Sunday 

was for the first time being strictly enforced reminds 
Roosevelt of Shakespeare's lines: "Art any more than 
a steward? Dost thou think, because thou art virtu- 
ous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?" 


After Roosevelt began his drive against the saloons 
which disregarded the law forbidding the sales of 
liquor on Sunday, he encountered the animosity of 
all those who could not obtain their Sunday drink. 
The Germans and the Irish were particularly vocif- 
erous in their opposition. They resented the curtail- 
ments of their small pleasures. They failed to see 
how the strict enforcement of the Excise Law would 
help police reforms; they regarded it as an intrusion 
in their personal liberties, and turned against Police 
Commissioner Roosevelt, whom they held responsible 
for the outrage. 

He became a target for cartoonists, a butt for 
criticizing newspaper writers. 


police headquarters a gloomy 
building with underground dun- 
geons was located. From here 
Police Commissioner Theodore Roo- 
sevelt set out to watch for policemen 
who were taking it easy on duty, 
who were drinking in saloons, or 
who received bribes from street- 
walkers. Because of his nightly 
prowlings, reporters called him 
"Roosevelt-al-Raschid." He had 
great fun roaming around the city 
and had fascinating adventures, even 
though each trip meant "going forty 
hours at a stretch without any sleep." 

"THE CHAMBER OF HORRORS." A cartoon by Bush in the New York Herald, Sep- 
tember 1895, showing the prominent figures of the Police Department. The first figure on 
the left is Police Commissioner Roosevelt, holding his three colleagues Andrews, Grant, 
Parker under his arm while his foot is pressing down on the bottle. The third figure from 
the left is "Easy Boss"Platt with Edward Lauterbach, his willing mouthpiece in city affairs. 



William McKinley, the Republican candidate, stayed 
at home in Canton, Ohio, where he addressed his 
supporters from the front porch of his house with 

pleasant, pious platitudes. Supported by the busi- 
ness and financial interests, who were steadfastly for 
a solid gold-backed currency, he won the election 
with 271 electoral votes against his opponent's 176. 

THE DEMOCRATIC CANDIDATE, William Jennings Bryan, pleaded 
for silver coinage at a ratio of sixteen ounces of silver to one ounce of gold. 
Supported by western farmers and mining interests, he argued for a reduc- 
tion in value of the dollar so mortgages could be repaid in cheaper money. 





"There is one thing I would like to have, but there is no chance of my getting 
it. McKinley will never give it to me. I should like to be Assistant Secretary of 
the Navy." Thus spoke Roosevelt to his friend Maria Longworth Storer. Yet, 
President McKinley had hardly begun his term when he appointed Roosevelt 
to the post. 

Before he received the appointment Roosevelt promised to be a faithful 
subordinate to the Secretary of the Navy, the courteous and gentlemanly 
John D. Long; but with the nation's steadily worsening relations with Spain, 
he found that to keep his pledge was more than difficult. 

His sympathy, like the sympathy of most Americans at the time, was with the 
downtrodden Cubans, who were in rebellion against their corrupt and despotic 
Spanish overlords. Though the American attitude toward the Cuban people was 
based mainly on humanitarian motives, other, and less idealistic, considerations 
helped push the United States down the road to war. One was economic; our 
trade with Cuba, amounting to more than $100,000,000 in 1893, was badly 
disrupted by the insurrection. Another was geo-political; we felt an increasing 
need to control the Caribbean area, both to provide bases for a growing Navy 
and to protect the approaches to what already appeared to be the ordained 
site of an Isthmian canal linking the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. And still 
another one was the relentless propaganda campaign of the popular press. Led 
by Pulitzer's New York World and Hearst's New York Journal, a steady diet of 
Cuban atrocity stories was served to the unsuspecting public, recounting the 
inhumanities of General Weyler, the Spanish commander who herded thou- 
sands of non-combatant Cubans into concentration camps. The campaign for 
"Cuba Libre!" and the reports on the cruelty of "Butcher Weyler" increased 
circulation, thus more and more lurid tales were printed, selling more news- 
papers and fomenting the war spirit against Spain. 

Like President Cleveland before him, McKinley held that the United States 
should remain neutral. This was not the opinion of the Assistant Secretary of 
the Navy. Theodore Roosevelt, convinced that the United States must fight 
Spain, divided his energies between trying to swing others in the adminis- 
tration to his belief and doing his utmost to bring the Navy up to maximum 
strength. Secretary Long said: "His ardor sometimes went faster than the 
President or the department approved." 

It was less than three months after he took up his duties in the Navy De- 
partment that Roosevelt delivered at the Naval War College an address that 


summed up his views on military preparedness views similar to those he had 
first suggested in his History of the Naval War of 1812. "Cowardice in a race, as 
in an individual," he said, "is the unpardonable sin, and a wilful failure 
to prepare for danger may in its effects be as bad as cowardice. The timid man 
who cannot fight and the selfish, shortsighted or foolish man who will not take 
the steps that will enable him to fight, stand on almost the same plane." 
He went on to state that diplomacy is "utterly useless" without force behind it, 
and that "the diplomat is the servant, not the master, of the soldier." And he 
concluded that "no national life is worth having if the nation is not willing, 
when the need shall arise, to stake everything on the supreme arbitrament of 
war, and to pour out its blood, its treasures, its tears like water rather than to 
submit to the loss of honor and renown." Roosevelt's speech was widely praised. 
The highly critical Washington Post commented: "Well done, nobly spoken! 
Theodore Roosevelt, you have found your proper place at last all hail!" 

Throughout the summer of 1897 he fought tirelessly for bigger naval ap- 
propriations, convinced that war would soon come. By September he was 
eagerly planning the strategy, suggesting to Secretary Long that in the 
event of hostilities the main fleet should converge on Cuba while a flying 
squadron should attack the coast of Spain itself. Two months later, in a letter 
to Navy Commander Kimball, he declared that he would welcome hostilities 
with Spain not only for humanitarian reasons but also because of "the benefit 
done to our people by giving them something to think about which isn't 
material gain, and especially the benefit done our military forces by try- 
ing both the Army and Navy in actual practice." 

By this time the Spanish government in Madrid was thoroughly alarmed 
by the bellicose attitude of America. General Weyler was recalled, and pro- 
posals for Cuban home rule were offered; President McKinley, his hopes for 
peace revived, asked that Spain "be given a reasonable chance" to reform her 
policies. Early in February of 1898, however, events took another turn for the 
worse when an indiscreet letter written by Enrique de Lome, the Spanish 
Minister in Washington, was intercepted by a Cuban revolutionary agent and 
turned over to the New York Journal. The letter described President McKinley 
as being "weak and a bidder for the admiration of the crowd, besides being a 
would-be politician who tries to leave a door open behind himself while keep- 
ing on good terms with the jingoes in his party." The yellow press raged. 

Then, at 1:30 on the morning of February 16, 1898, Secretary Long was 
awakened to read a dispatch that smashed to bits any possibility of reconcilia- 
tion with Spain. The battleship Maine, riding at anchor in Havana Harbor, 
had been blown up and sunk with the loss of 260 lives. Whether the tragedy 
was plotted by the Spaniards, whether it was the work of Cuban provocateurs, 
or whether it resulted from an internal explosion has never been determined, 
but the well-nigh universal assumption in America at the time was that the 
Spanish government was guilty. The war fever was rising, and the yellow press 
redoubled its efforts to fan the flames of jingoism. 

The President and his Cabinet were still for peace. Roosevelt urged war. 


"Being a jingo," he wrote to a friend the day after the Maine disaster, "I will 
say, to relieve my feelings, that I would give anything if President McKinley 
would order the fleet to Havana tomorrow." And he said that the Maine "was 
sunk by an act of dirty treachery on the part of the Spaniards," although he 
had no evidence that this was the fact. A few days later, hearing that a group 
in Congress was suggesting curtailment of the battleship construction pro- 
gram, he told Long that such a decision "would mean that we have reached 
the last pitch of national cowardice and baseness." 

Such pronouncements did not soothe Long's worries about his assistant. On 
February 25, when he took a day's rest away from the office, he sent Roosevelt a 
personal note of instruction not to take "any step affecting the policy of the 
administration without consulting the President or me." He could have 
written his instruction in the sand. On that very day Roosevelt sent a cable to 
Commodore Dewey, the commander of the Asiatic Squadron, ordering him 
to "Keep full of coal" and in the event of war "to see that the Spanish Squadron 
does not leave the Asiatic coast," and take up "offensive operations in the 
Philippine Islands." Thus, when the Secretary of the Navy returned to 
his office the next day, he was faced with an accomplished fact. Long noted in 
his diary that Roosevelt "in his precipitate way has come very near causing 
more of an explosion than happened to the Maine" adding: "It shows how the 
best fellow in the world and with splendid capacities is worse than no use 
if he lacks a cool head and discrimination." 

Through the month of March, McKinley continued to resist the demand 
for war. Such shilly-shallying made Roosevelt desperate about the President, 
who, in his opinion, had "no more backbone than a chocolate eclair." To his 
brother-in-law, Captain Cowles, Roosevelt wrote that "I have advised the 
President in the presence of his Cabinet, as well as Judge Day and Senator 
Hanna, as strongly as I knew how, to settle this matter instantly by armed in- 
tervention." And when Mark Hanna, at a Gridiron Club dinner, pointed out 
the heavy human and material costs of war, the Assistant Secretary of 
the Navy retorted: "We will have this war for the freedom of Cuba, Senator 
Hanna, in spite of the timidity of the commercial interests." 

Roosevelt's fears that war would be averted proved groundless. On March 
28 a board of inquiry report attributing the Maine disaster to a submarine mine 
was submitted to Congress, and the national war cry of "Remember the 
Maine!" reverberated all over the land. Meanwhile the Spanish government 
made frantic efforts to avoid the clash of arms. On April 9 it suspended hostil- 
ities against the Cuban rebels, and the American Minister in Spain reported 
to President McKinley that the issue could be settled through peaceful means. 

But it was too late. McKinley did not possess the moral strength to resist 
the demand for armed intervention. On April 1 1 he sent his war message to a 
wildly cheering Congress. Roosevelt was elated; the war he sought had finally 
come. Within days he resigned his post, ordered a uniform, half a dozen pairs 
of spectacles, and some horses, and was off to join the Rough Riders. 


ASSISTANT SECRETARY OF THE NAVY. It was not easy for Roosevelt to obtain the 
coveted appointment. President McKinley, who declared that "there will be no jingo non- 
sense under my administration," was hesitant to name him to the post. When Bellamy 
Storer, a mutual friend, went to see McKinley on Roosevelt's behalf, McKinley said: "I 
want peace, and I am told that your friend Theodore ... is always getting into rows with 
everybody. I am afraid he is too pugnacious." 

Senator Cabot Lodge, the faithful friend, worked tirelessly on Roosevelt's behalf in 
Washington, using all his influence. He wrote Roosevelt that "the only thing I can hear 
adverse is that there is a fear that you will want to fight somebody at once." When Lodge 
told his friend that John Long, the Secretary of the Navy, was not against his becoming 
the Assistant Secretary of the Navy, Roosevelt promised that he would work hard and "stay 
at Washington hot weather or any weather, whenever he wants me to stay there, and go 
wherever he sends me, and my aim should be solely to make his administration a success." 
There was one last obstacle Thomas Collier Platt, the boss of the New York political 
machine. Lodge advised Roosevelt to see the old man. "He wants really more than any- 
thing else to feel that you are not shoved in over his head and that your idea in going there 
is not to make war on him." Platt was ready to support Roosevelt's appointment if it "was 
not charged to him or New York." He was happy to help him go to Washington and thus 
rid New York of the obnoxious and troublesome police commissioner. In the first week of 
April, Cabot Lodge wired his friend that the appointment would be forthcoming and 
Roosevelt replied with pleasure: "Sinbad has evidently landed the old man of the sea." 


As you will see by the heading of this 

letter, I am now Assistant Secretary of the 

/uc**/W~> *~ f~ r*++* 
Navy. Cabot Lodge^got me in, though the 

New York machine vigorously opposed me. 
My chief, Secretary Long, is a perfect dear, 
and I think his views of foreign policy 
would entirely meet your approval. I see 
a good deal of Proctor, who is a trump, as 
ever. I am staying with the Lodges. 
Mrs. Lodge looks so well. All this winter 
I have seen a great deal of Bob. I am now 
mourn ine the fact that during this summer 
I shall hardly be at all with Mrs. Roose- 
velt and the children, but I greatly enjoy 
the work here. During my two years as 
police commisslonor I think I may say I 
accomplished a great deal, but gradually 

things have so shaped themselves that I 
couldn't do anything more. 

Ooodbyt; and do eome here and see us 
seme time* 

Always yours, 

Mr. Oeell Spring Rice, 
British embassy, 

Berlin, Germany. 

A NOTE TO AN OLD FRIEND, written April 27,1897, about his appointment. Cecil 
Spring-Rice, the British diplomat who had been Roosevelt's best man at his London wedding 
to Edith Carow in 1886, was now attached to Great Britain's Embassy in Berlin, Germany. 


More than in being a public servant, 
he took pride in being a devoted 
husband and a good father. He loved 
his children, and the children 
adored him. In letters to family and 
friends, Roosevelt constantly referred 
to them and their doings. 

Besides Alice, the daughter from 
his first marriage, there were now 
four more: Theodore, Jr. (with 
glasses), born on September 13, 
1887; Kermit, born October 10, 
1889; Ethel, born August 13, 1891 
(both on Mrs. Roosevelt's lap), and 
Archibald (held by his father), 
born April 9, 1894. Quentin was 
not born until November 19, 1897. 


May 3, 1897. 
Captain A. T. Vahan, U. S. N. f 

160 West tighty-slxth Street, 

Naw York City, If. Y. 
My dear Captain Mahan: 

This latter must, of 

course, be considered as entirely confi- 
dential, because in my position I an merely 
carrying out the polity of the Secretary 
and the President. I suppose I need not 

tell you that as regards Hawaii I tafce your 
views absolutely, as indeed I do on foreiga 
policy generally. If I had my way we would 
annex those islands tomorrow. If that is 
impossible I would establish a protectorate 

th<*.T. i b*li"te we should build ths 
fflciure\gi4*ii canal Htonoa, ui4 in tht neon time 
that *e should bull! a 6oean now battle 
ah Ip*. half Of thmn on 4 .he Pacific Coast; 
ami those tatUt ahlp* should have large 
c>au capacity and it eonaa^vent Increased 
radlua of ac-tion. I am fully alivt to tht 
danger from Japan, and I Know that it ia 
l&Le to rsly on any seatimental good will 
toward* us. I think President Cleveland's 
action was & colossal crime, and *%c should 
be guilty of aiding him after the fuct if 
we do not reverse what he did* I earnestly 
hope we can m&Jca the President look at 
things our way. Last Saturday night Lodge 
pr+tsed his views upon him with all his 

A REMARKABLE LETTER, published here in 
Facsimile for the first time, reveals Roosevelt's 
thoughts on America's role in world affairs. 

The letter went to Captain Alfred Thayer Mahan, 
(1840-1914) America's most influential advocate of 
sea power. Roosevelt, sharing Mahan's views on 
naval expansion, first wrote to him in 1890 when 
Mahan published The Influence of Sea Power Upon 
History, 1660-1783, "the clearest and most instructive 
general work of its kind." 

When the Senate hesitated to approve the Hawai- 
ian annexation treaty, Roosevelt communicated with 
Mahan (December 9, 1897): "It seems incredible 
that such shortsighted folly should obtain among 
our public men, but it does. If we refuse these 
islands, then I honestly hope England will take 
them, if only to bring back to our people the knowl- 
edge of their folly." And in another letter (December 
14, 1897) Roosevelt told Mahan that he was sharing 
his bitter feelings, "but I take a grim consolation in 
thinking that we have acted quite as foolishly 
during the past hundred years as we possibly can 
act now, and yet we have lived through trial after 
trial and so we shall continue to do. At any rate 
your creed and mine is and must be, resolute to do 
our best to stand by our country to the utmost of 
our power, and to accept whatever comes." 

Admiral Beardslee quit* the man for tht situation out 
thert, but Captain Barker, of the ORXOON, Is, I be- 
lieve, excellent in point of decisions, willingness 
to accept responsibility, and thorough knowledge ef 
the situation. But there are big problem in the West 
Indies alao. Until we definitely turn Spain out of 
those islands (and if I hud my way that would be done 
tomorrow), we will always he Menaced by trouble there. 
We should acquire the Danish Islands, and by turning 
Spain out should serve notice that no strong turopean 
power, and especially not Germany, should be allowed 
to gain a foothold by supplanting SOBS weak European 
power. I do not foar Ingland; Canada, is a hostage 
for her good bohavior; but I de fear some of the otker 


owers. I am extremely sorry to say that 
here is some slight appearance here of the 
esire to stop building up the Navy until 
iur finances are better. Tom Reed, to my 
Astonishment and indignation, takes this 
lew, and even my chief f who is one of the 
tost high-minded; honorable and upright 
jer.tlemen I have ever had the good fortune 
;o serve under, is a little inclined toward 

I need not say that this letter must 
3* strictly private. I speak to you with 
the greatest freedom, for I sympathise with 
/our views, and I have precisely the same 
Idea of patriotism, and of belief in and 
li;ve for our country. But to no one else 
excepting Lodge do I talk like this. 

As regards Hawaii X am delighted to be 
able to tell you that Secretary tang shares 
our views* He believes we should take the 
islands, and I have just been preparing 
some memoranda for him to use at the Cabinet 
meeting tomorrow. If only ve had acme good 
man in the place of John Sherman as Secre- 
tary of State there would not be a hitch, 
and even as it IB I hope for favorable ac- 
tion. I have been pressing upon the Secre- 
tory, and through him on the President, that 
we ought to act now without delay, before 
Japan gets her two new battle ships which 
are now ready for delivery to her in England, 
tven a fortnight may make a difference. 
With Hawaii onoe in our hands most of the 
danger of friction with Japan would disappear. 

strength. I *a*a en a^Ulha matter* in hap * 
tht ptairic e*Mt jtut i feat * ,1 ha** U*n alltwaf. 
My OVA btlirf it that re afcoula eVtt luHftftDy Mtore 
the two new Japamaaa *nhl lee** atojUAPtt I 
tend ihe OUTGO*, 4 tit, if n*eae>ary *!> 1M 
(either with a deck luad of cotl of &cca*$iftt4 1} H 
coaling ship) to Hawaii, and ffouli hotel yr /Ing ovr 
the island, lHT*ni al] deuile far tft 49ttQ4\ I 
ahall praa thaaa views upon my Mf jtVrt It faf la 
he will let e , more I cannot do. 

A* reg*rdt what you a\y in your leue,r, there ^ 
only one point to whieh 1 would teJ(*> exception, I 
fully rn&llie the limanae lap or tine* of ifet Pacific 
coaat. Strictly betr-ean ounelven, I do *t\ think 

Toe 5toratary tlao btlJtvet in bulldioc the 11 
oanaa as s ilittry ira, althoegh X doat 

knov that ha la M dacidatf on thlt point AS you snd X 
are; and ha bellava* is bwildln^'ahipa OB tht r^eifie 


*f i .r* // " \ i 

THE EXPLOSION OF THE MAINE. On February 15, 1898, 
the United States battleship Maine, while pn a "friendly visit" 
in Havana harbor, blew up. Though the cause of the tragedy 
(taking the lives of 258 crewmen and two officers) could never 
be determined, American public opinion put the blame squarely 
on the Spanish government. 

All over the country the cry went up "Remember the Maine," 
and the cry grew in intensity as Congress hesitated to declare 
war. But the pressure was so great that within two months the 
United States and Spain were engaged in conflict. Discussing 
the explosion, Woodrow Wilson asserted that war came "not 
because a vessel of the American Navy had been destroyed in 
a port of Spain, but because opinion leaped upon the provoca- 
tion of that tragic incident from quiet inquiry to hot impatience 
with regard to all the ugly Cuban business. ... It was a war of 
impulse, as any one might see who had noted how unprepared 
the country was for what it had suddenly undertaken." 


ON FEBRUARY 17, 1898, the >r- 
nal printed over a million copies. 

1 /A 3 V) 6^ r * >^y 


The owner of the New York Journal wanted to outsell The 
World, owned by Joseph Pulitzer. Whatever Pulitzer tried if it 
proved successful Hearst tried also. After The World started a 
comic strip with a bald-headed, flap-eared kid in a yellow 
nightgown, Hearst lured away Outcault, the originator of the 
cartoons, so the Journal, too, had its yellow kid. To increase 
circulation, the rival owners used every means in the trade: 
sensationalism, murder, love stories and jingoism. 

Hearst sent a bevy of correspondents to Cuba to report on 
the atrocities of the Spaniards in words and in pictures. When 
the artist Frederic Remington asked his boss to allow him to 
return home, since war did not seem to be materializing, Hearst 
wired him: "You furnish the pictures and I'll furnish the war." 

ON FEBRUARY 18, 1898, this was 
the front page of Hearst's paper. 




February 85, 1690. 

These are trying times. In the evening Rooeveit, 
who* I had left as Acting Secretary during the afternoon, 
came around. Ho it no enthusiastic and loyal that he if. 
ih certain reepects, invaluable, ytt I ucX confidence 
in hi* good Judgment >and discretion. He go<- off v*r> 

impulsively nd f If I have a good night tonight, 1 shall 
ftl that I ought to be back In the Departmer,* ruthtr tha- 

tak* A day 'a vacation. 


' V?. 

', tjjjrp ' ).&& , 

****' V. , 

A MOMENTOUS DECISION. On the afternoon 
of February 25, 1898, while Secretary Long was 
away from the office, Roosevelt as Acting Secretary 
of the Navy, sent this cable to Admiral Dewey, the 
head of the Asiatic Squadron: "Order the Squadron 
except Monocacy to Hong Kong. Keep full of coal. 
In the event of declaration war Spain, your duty will 
be to see that the Spanish squadron does not leave 
the Asiatic coast and then offensive operations in 
Philippine Islands. Keep Olympia until further 
orders." The same evening as is evident from 
Long's private diary Roosevelt must have told his 
superior what he had done; and while Secretary Long 
lacked confidence in his assistant's "good judgment 
and discretion," he did not revoke the order. 

Washington. D. C. t Saturday, February 6th, 1696. 

I had a ap lend 11 night last night, and return to the 
of flee, Both becauee I feel ao much batter, and because 
during my abort abeence I find that Roosevelt, lit hit 
precipitate wmy, has com very near causing more of ait e- 
ploaion than happened to the Maine. Hia wife is very ill 
his little boy is just recovering from a long and danger- 

oua illness, so that his natural nervousness is so much 

accentuated that I really think he is hardly fit to be 

entrusted with the responsibility of the Department at 
this critical time. Ha is full of suggestions; many of 
which are of great value to B, and his spirited and 
forceful habit Is a rood tonic for one who is disposed to 
be as conservative and careful as I am. He m<>aiis to he 
thoroughly loyal, but the very devil seamed to possess 
him yesterday afternoon. Having the authority for that 
time of Acting Secretary, ha immediate .ly be fan to launch 
peremptory orders, distributing ships, order lug ammunl- 


tloii, which there is no meatrs to aaM, to places where 
there is no swans to store It; Bending for Captain 

Barker to come on about the guns of the Vesuvius, whJrh 
is a matter that might hav* bean perfectly arranged by 
correspondence; an1inc nenpfcge? to Congrenc for inrn*- 
dinte legit] at l.m, author-king the eniittment of an un- 
limited number of *amen, and orri fc ring guns from tn 
Havy Yard at Washington to New York, with A vimr to arm- 
ing auxiliary cruisers which r now in peucftful comrcer- 
eial pursuit. The only effect of this last order would 
be to take guns which are now carefully Ftorwd, ready for 

shipment any moment, and which couio be shipped *t#* t** &.. 

t^* 7 ** t 

laey eauW psseMijy put vn aity vevsel, and ^u dumt- them 

in the open weathor^n the K^w York Havy Yard, where the/ 
would ba only in the way and under no proper care. He has 
gone at things like a bull in a china shop, autl with the 
best purposes in the world, has rwally taken what, if re 
could have thought, he would not have for a moment have 
taken, an* that it the out c ours* which is Ttottt rtis- 

enurttidus to me, because it suggests that there had been 

a lack of attent ton which he was supplying* *** chows 

how the best follow in the world ftttfl with splendid oa- 
pacUle* is worn< than of no us* if h luck a cool head 
tut careful discretion. 

TWO PAGES from Secretary Long's private diary Roosevelt ordered Admiral Dewey to be ready for 
written on February 26, 1898, a day after Theodore war. (Publication by courtesy of Dr. Margaret Long.) 



%; v;*i?^ 





ROOSEVELT'S DIARY. The entry on April 16, nine days before Congress voted its 
war resolution against Spain reads: "The President still feebly is painfully trying for 
peace. His weakness and vacillation are even more ludicrous than painful. Long is at last 
awake; and anyway I have the Navy in good shape. But the army is awful. The War Dept. 
is in utter confusion. Alger has no force whatever, & no knowledge of his department. But 
he wishes war, at least. Miles is merely a brave peacock. They both told me they could put 
100,000 men in Tampa in 24 hours! The folly, & lack of preparation, are almost incon- 
ceivable. Reed, backed by Cannon and Boutelle, is malignantly bent on preventing all 
preparation for war, so far as he can. I really believe that if it does come, he wishes it to be 
a failure." Roosevelt was strongly critical of President McKinley, who in his opinion had 
"no more backbone than a chocolate eclair." He was impatient, thinking the Cuban prob- 
lem could not be solved through peaceful means. Roosevelt urged quick and decisive 
action no more political dillydallying, but a firm and unequivocal stand in other words, war. 


Washington, D. C. f Monday April 25th, 1896. 

My Assistant Secretary, Roosevolt, has determined upon 
resigning, in order to so into the army and take part 
in the war. He has been of great use; a man of unbounded 
energy and force, and thoroughly honest, which is the main 
thing. He has lost his head to this unutterable folly of 
deserting the post where he is of most service and running 
off to ride a horse and, probably, brush mosquitoes from his 

neck on the Florida sands. His heart is right, and he 
means well, but it is ont of those cases of aberration- 
desertion - vain-glory; of which ha is utterly unaware. 
He thinks he is following his highest Ideal, whereas, in 
fact, as without exception every one of his friends ad- 
vises him, ha is acting like a fool. And, yet, how absurd 
all this will sound if, by some turn of fortune, he should 
accomplish some great thing and strike a vary high mark. 



"" - 

"ROOSEVELT WAS RIGHT" reads the handwritten postscript in Secretary Long's diary; 
"we his friends were all wrong. His going into the army led straight to the Presidency." 
(This first reproduction of the revealing diary is by courtesy of Secretary Long's daughter.) 



Brooks Brothers* 

Twenty -second Broadway, Iff* York. 

Can you rnnke nw so 1 shall haw It hare by aext Satur- 
day a blue cravermftt rsfular 11 eutenwt - colonel's vnifom 
without yellow oa dollar, and with leggtnfaf If no Mfc it* 



"While I think I could face death with dignity," wrote Roosevelt to his friend 
Dr. W. Sturgis Bigelow on March 29, 1898, "I have no desire before my time 
has come to go out into the everlasting darkness ... So I shall not go into a 
war with any undue exhilaration of spirits or in a frame of mind in any way 
approaching recklessness or levity. . . . One of the commonest taunts directed 
at men like myself is that we are armchair and parlor jingoes who wish to see 
others do what we only advocate doing. I care very little for such a taunt, ex- 
cept as it affects my usefulness, but I cannot afford to disregard the fact that 
my power for good, whatever it may be, would be gone if I didn't try to live 
up to the doctrines I have tried to preach." 

And though his friends warned that to relinquish his post in the Navy 
Department might mean the end of his political career, Roosevelt's ears were 
deaf to such warnings. Determined to prove himself as a soldier on the battle- 
field, he left his wife who has just recovered from an operation he left his 
children, he left his political career. 

Congress had authorized the recruitment of three volunteer cavalry regi- 
ments in the states and territories of the West and Southwest. General Russell 
A. Alger, the Secretary of War, was ready to put the Assistant Secretary of the 
Navy at the head of one of the regiments, but Roosevelt declined the honor, 
proposing that his friend Leonard Wood, a young Army surgeon, should be 
given the command, while he was content with the rank of a lieutenant colonel. 

Within a few days the outfit that came to be known as the Rough Riders was 
formed the most extraordinary fighting force ever assembled in America. 
From the ranches and outposts of the West came hard-riding cowboys, iron- 
tough gamblers, and recruits whose relations with the law were strained 
at best. From the fashionable centers of the East came adventurous college boys, 
polo players, Long Island fox hunters. By the spit-and-polish standards of the 
regular Army it was a motley and ill-disciplined regiment. But the men were 
physically tough; they were good shots and good horsemen; they were eager 
to fight. And while they were training in San Antonio, Texas, the first spectac- 
ular victory of the war was won in the Philippines by Commodore Dewey 
thanks in no small measure to the state of readiness he had assumed on Roose- 
velt's orders. Dewey left Hong Kong with his squadron and on the night of 
April 30 slipped into Manila Bay, where the Spanish fleet lay at anchor. At 
dawn he closed in to a range of two and one half miles before issuing his 
famous order: "You may fire when ready, Gridley." Five times his ships passed 
the Spanish fleet, raking it with gunfire; and when the order was given 



to "draw off for breakfast," the backbone of Spanish resistance had been broken. 

By the end of May, Roosevelt and his regiment moved on to the embarkation 
point of Tampa, Florida, where Roosevelt enjoyed a four-day visit from his 
wife and caused consternation among the regular Army officers by dining at 
the hotel with non-commissioned officers. 

On June 22 the Rough Riders sans their horses landed in Cuba at the 
village of Daiquiri, near Santiago on the island's southerly tip. Two days later, 
advancing through a thick jungle in mountainous terrain at Las Gudsimas, 
they had their baptism of fire. Though the skirmish was brief, Richard Har- 
ding Davis, the correspondent who accompanied the regiment, termed it "the 
hottest, hastiest fight I ever imagined." Sixteen Rough Riders lost their lives, 
another fifty were wounded. 

But it was on July 1 and 2, at San Juan Hill just outside Santiago, that the 
Rough Riders endured their greatest test with the capture of the Spanish 
entrenchments at the summit of the hill. Roosevelt referred to that day at San 
Juan as "the greatest day of my life," and surely it was. Mounted on horse- 
back so his men could see him, he led the infantry charge under heavy fire 
and held the newly captured entrenchments against all Spanish counter- 
attacks. When the smoke of the battle cleared, fifteen out of the five hundred 
Rough Riders were dead and seventy-three were wounded a higher casualty 
rate than was suffered by any other regiment during the entire Spanish- 
American War. 

Still, though the infantry fought hard, the war was not decided by their 
bravery. It was the Navy who delivered the final blow, it was the Navy who 
won the decisive battle. In mid-May the main Spanish fleet, under Admiral 
Cervera, had taken refuge in Santiago Harbor, where it was bottled up by an 
American fleet under Admiral Sampson. With the American land forces ap- 
proaching Santiago, Cervera made a dash for the open sea. It was a disastrous 
decision. The ramshackle Spanish boats were sitting ducks for the American 
Navy. Though American marksmanship was pitifully poor, within hours the 
Spanish fleet was annihilated. 

That the United States won the war was a miracle. The inefficiency of the 
War Department's planning was incredible: for want of khaki clothing, the 
troops fought in heavy winteri uniforms during a tropical summer; supply 
services were so mismanaged that the soldiers in the combat area were not 
only ill-equipped but ill-fed; sanitation in the camps was so primitive that 
disease killed thirteen times as many men as enemy bullets. What saved the 
day was not American efficiency but the incompetence of the Spaniards, whose 
Navy was untrained and who used only a minute fraction of the 200,000 troops 
they assembled in Cuba. 

Roosevelt, who after San Juan Hill was promoted to a colonelcy, raged 
against the War Department's bungling. In his diary, before leaving Tampa 
for Cuba, he complained that "there is no head, no energy, no intelligence in 
the War Department," and he warned Senator Lodge that "military disaster" 
might result if adequate food and supplies were not made quickly available 
to the troops. 


By mid-July, when Santiago surrendered, an alarming wave of yellow fever 
began taking a heavy toll among the American troops. The medical officers 
wanted to move the soldiers from the unsanitary camp to a northern climate, 
but the War Department insisted that they should be left in Cuba for the 
summer. Roosevelt, by tacit agreement with General Shafter, composed a 
letter of complaint, which Shafter turned over to an Associated Press corres- 
pondent. Other division and brigade commanders signed a "Round Robin" 
to the War Department, demanding the removal of the Army from Cuba. 
Thus, when at last the troops were allowed to return to the States, Roosevelt 
was given the main credit for it and hailed as a national hero. 

Before Roosevelt and the Rough Riders were shipped north, Spain signed a 
preliminary peace treaty on terms dictated by President McKinley, though 
protesting that "this demand strips us of the very last memory of a glorious 
past." In October formal negotiations began in Paris, with America repre- 
sented by a five-man commission that included Undersecretary of State Day 
and editor Whitelaw Reid of the New York Tribune. The treaty granted Cuba 
independence, and Spain assumed Cuba's debt of 400 million dollars; Puerto 
Rico and Guam were ceded to the United States; the Philippine Islands were 
annexed ("to educate the Filipinos and uplift and Christianize them"). The 
taking of the Philippines, which consequently forced us to wage a war in the 
islands against the natives was bitterly opposed by such anti-imperialists as 
Bryan, Godkin, Carl Schurz, and Mark Twain, but the party in power felt 
that it was America's destiny to rule over the Philippines. 

The signing of the Treaty of Paris marked our emergence as a world power. 
The old sense of isolation was gone; we were now committed to rely on our 
own Navy rather than England's to enforce the Monroe Doctrine, and we 
were educated by our military mistakes into creating an adequate standing 
Army with a permanent general staff. 

The Spanish- American War was the most popular in our history. "It has 
been a splendid little war," wrote John Hay to Roosevelt, "begun with the 
highest motives, carried on with magnificent intelligence and spirit, favored 
by that Fortune which loves the brave." Hay's words expressed the feeling of 
all America. It was a victorious war of only a few weeks, covering the fighters 
with glory, and with less than three hundred combat casualties to pay for it. 

To Roosevelt the war had been a glorious adventure, a vindication of his 
physical courage and his abilities as a leader, and he made no great effort to 
conceal his pride. "I do not want to be vain," he had written Senator Lodge 
from Cuba, "but I do not think anyone else could have handled this regiment 
quite as I have." Later, when he wrote a book about himself and the Rough 
Riders, Finley Peter Dunne's Mr. Dooley read it thoughtfully and concluded: 
"If I was him I'd call th' book 'Alone in Cubia.'" As alternative titles 
Mr. Dooley suggested "Th' Biography iv a Hero be Wan who Knows" or <c Th' 
Darin' Exploits iv a Brave Man be an Actual Eye- Witness." But however much 
the humorists joked about him, the battle of San Juan Hill made Roosevelt one 
of the most popular men in America. 


THE DAY WAR BEGAN: IN CUBA. The sun shines and it is pleasant to stroll after the 
5. work wUh the girl one loves. The thought of war seems far away; in peacetime ,t is 
hard to imagine what war is like. But within the island the guerrillas were fightmg savage 
within the island Spanish soldiers at the behest of their superiors were killing 
Cubam-^thin he island thousands and thousands were herded into dreaded concentration 
T* ruled with heavy hand over her dependency; Cuba was de-ota* wi*a 
quarter of the population exterminated, while those who were hvuig -ufaed * d ^a* 
and starvation. How to improve such conditions? The answer was: by war. So war it was. 


THE DAY WAR BEGAN: IN NEW YORK. Fifth Avenue is peaceful on this April 
morning. The sun shines and it is pleasant to stroll down the street with the girl one loves. 
The thought of war seems far away; in peacetime it is so hard to imagine what war is like. 
But already the Navy had sailed to Cuba to blockade its port, and Congress had voted for 
President McKinley's war resolution. The American people became war-minded the 
sensation-loving newspapers, the business community, the conservatives, and the reformers 
demanded the punishment of Spain. "Save the downtrodden Cubans from their Spanish 
oppressors," cried the headlines. How to do it? The answer was: by war. So war it was. 


"YOU MAY FIRE WHEN READY, GRIDLEY," ordered Admiral Dewey at nineteen 
minutes to six on the morning of May 1, 1898, after his fleet had passed the silent guns of 
Corregidor and sneaked inside the harbor of Manila. Soon the guns of the warships were 
blazing; soon the Spanish fleet lay prostrate in the bay. Roosevelt, who as Assistant Secre- 
tary of the Navy had ordered Dewey to be ready for war, was elated by the victory. The 
battle of Manila Bay elevated the United States to one of the great naval powers of the world. 


commanded by Admiral George 
Dewey, in battle formation. The 
American fleet entered Manila 
Bay under cover of darkness and 
smashed the Spanish ships in a 
short encounter. The people back 
home recited: 

Oh, dewy was the morning 
Upon the fast of May 
And Dewey was the admiral 
Down in Manila Bay. 



on May 1, 1898, the day he de- 
feated the Spanish fleet at Manila. 


OFF TO THE WAR. After Congress declared war, the President called for 125,000 men. 
The youth of the country flocked to the colors; war was still a romantic escapade, a heroic 
dream. Theodore Roosevelt, too, pined for adventure; he was impatient to sail to Cuba 
and free the suppressed Cubans from their Spanish overlords. "It will be awful," he wrote 
in a letter (excerpt reproduced on the right page), "if the game is over before we get into it." 


THE ROUGH RIDERS, under Colonel Leonard 
Wood and Lieutenant Colonel Theodore Roosevelt 
(at the head of the troops), were the first volunteer 
regiment organized, armed, and equipped for the 
Spanish-American War. From the ranches and out- 
posts of the West came hard-riding cowboys and iron- 
tough gamblers; from the East came college boys 
and polo players thirsting for adventure. It was a 
motley crew at first, but with a remarkable esprit de 
corps and with a deep affection for their leaders. "I 
suppose every man tends to brag about his regiment," 


wrote Roosevelt later, "but it does seem to me that 
there never was a regiment better worth bragging 
about than ours." 

After leaving the Navy Department in the first 
week of May, Roosevelt joined the regiment in San 
Antonio, Texas, where the Rough Riders received 
their training. The men drilled, but what a bore it 
was! They had joined the army to fight, not to exer- 
cise on the parade ground. They wanted to go to 
war; they wanted to be heroes but there was 
nothing heroic, nothing romantic in San Antonio. 

The regiment was better outfitted for the hot 
climate in the brown canvas fatigue uniform of the 
cavalry than were the regulars, who had to wear 
woolens more suited for the arctic regions. However, 
they were still uncomfortable, and they complained 
and grumbled. One hot afternoon after Roosevelt 
had drilled a squadron, the men got so thirsty that 
their commander bought beer for them. In the eve- 
ning Colonel Wood reprimanded Roosevelt, who 
agreed with him. "You are right, sir! I consider myself 
the damnedest ass within ten miles of this camp." 



If a ship could be sunk in the narrow part of the 
channel leading to Santiago, the Spanish fleet would 
be bottled up inside the harbor, unable to escape; at 
the same time, the obstacle would keep other Spanish 
warships particularly the Pelayo from entering the 
harbor and bringing help to the ships in distress. 

Admiral Sampson, who conceived this idea, dis- 
patched Lieutenant Richmond Pearson Hobson, an 
assistant naval constructor, and seven other volun- 
teers on the old collier Merrimac to accomplish the 
feat. Hobson planned to steam past Morro Castle, 
then turn his vessel crosswise, drop anchor, and ex- 
plode it with ten torpedoes. 

At three-thirty in the morning of June 3 the small 
group set out on their dangerous mission and reached 
the harbor's entrance not long thereafter. By then 

the steering gear of their ship had been shot away 
by the Spanish shore batteries. Desperately, Hobson 
tried to sink his helpless vessel, but as only two of 
the torpedoes could be exploded, the Merrimac drifted 
straight down the channel. When at last it sank 
aided by hits from the guns on land it went down 
in the wrong spot, leaving the entrance to Santiago 
Harbor still free. 

Hobson and the volunteers left their ship, jumping 
into the water, where they floated holding onto their 
life raft. At dawn a Spanish steam launch came out 
to rescue them, with Admiral Cervera, the com- 
mander of the Spanish fleet, himself giving a hand 
in pulling them into the boat. They were made pris- 
oners of war, and Hobson like Lieutenant Rowan 
who carried the celebrated message to Garcia, the 
Cuban insurgent leader became a national hero. 


After the battle of Santiago, in which the American fleet caused havoc to its adversaries, 
the Spaniards in Santiago Harbor hit on the same idea as Admiral Sampson's a few days 
before. They, too, wanted to block the harbor entrance, their aim now to keep the 
American fleet outside. The attempt was made with the three-thousand-ton cruiser Reina 
Mercedes but, like the Merrimac, it sank outside the channel, leaving the entrance free. 

FAREWELL SERMON AT TAMPA. Before their embarkation to Cuba, Chaplain Brown 
addresses the troops. Standing by the trees in the background are Major Dunn, General 
Wheeler, Lieutenant Colonel Roosevelt, and Colonel Wood. 

The troops were happy to leave Tampa. They had no proper accommodations, as no 
effort had been made to set up a camp there. They simply formed in lines a row of tents 
and a row of horses at their picket lines. Some who had money took rooms in the Tampa 
Bay Hotel, the rest slept on the ground what wet ground it was plagued by flies, taran- 
tulas, and centipedes. Many of them contracted typhoid and typhus-malaria, many of 
them so sick that instead of going to Cuba they were sent to hospitals or back home. 


GETTING TO THE WAR WAS NO EASY MATTER. "We were up the entire night 
standing by the railway track at Tampa, hoping for trains that did not come. At dawn we 
were shifted to another railway track, and then owing to some energetic work of Wood and 
myself succeeded in getting the troops on empty coal cars, on which we came down the 
wharf," wrote Roosevelt. On arrival, the Rough Riders found the wharf jammed and all 
in a "higgledly-piggledly" state. The quartermaster general allotted them a transport but 
"advised us to seize her instantly if we hoped to keep her." While Wood requisitioned a 
ship, Roosevelt with four hundred men took possession of it u in the very nick of time to 
head off the 71st regiment, which was also advancing for the purpose." 

THE ROUGH RIDERS ON THE YUCATAN. Utter confusion marked the embarka- 
tion of the troops at Tampa. Ships which should have carried 750 men were filled 
twice that number. A soldier chalked on the side of the boat: "Standing room only, to 
which another added, "And damned little of that." Roosevelt wrote: "We arc m a sewer. 


THE DIARY OF ROOSEVELT while he and his men waited in Tampa to be shipped to 
Cuba reveals the abysmally poor planning of the expedition. Its most recurrent word is 

The entry on June 5 says: "No words can paint the confusion. No head; a breakdown of 
both the railroad and military systems of the country. Miles partly to blame also." 
On June 8: "Worst confusion yet. ... No allotment of transports; no plans." 
On June 9 the troops embarked. Packed on board were 15,058 enlisted men, 8 19. officers, 
and some additional clerks, teamsters, packers, and stevedores, along with 2,295 horses and 
mules, 114 six-mule army wagons, but only seven ambulances. For days the transportson 
order of the War Department remained in the harbor, a delay Roosevelt considered "very 
bad for men." Not until June 14 did they set sail. The situation was aptly summed up 
by a general who commented: "This is God Almighty's war, and we are only His agents." 



On May 25 the American fleet reached the shores 
of Cuba. The Spanish fleet, under the command of 
Admiral Cervera, was inside Santiago Harbor. 

On June 1 Admiral Sampson arrived with the 
New York and the Oregon and took a position opposite 
the harbor's entrance, placing his ships in a semi- 
circle, watching the channel day and night. 

On June 3 Lieutenant Hobson was given orders 

to sink the Merrimac in view of the Spanish batteries 
at Morro Castle and Socapa. 

On June 22 the first six thousand American troops 
landed at Daiquiri (on the far left), fifteen miles 
from Santiago. Next day they marched into Siboney 
and established the main American base. On June 
24 the first land battle of the war was fought at Las 
Guasimas. After a fearful engagement the Spaniards 
retreated toward Santiago. General Wheeler, the 


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former Confederate leader, who was in command, 
shouted excitedly: "We've got the Yankees on the 
run," forgetting that he was not fighting the Civil 
War but the Spaniards. 

The engagement at Las Gudsimas was followed 
between July 1 and 3 by the twin battles of El Caney 
and San Juan Hill. The way to Santiago was clear. 

On July 3 the American Navy decisively defeated 
the Spanish fleet as it attempted to escape from 

Santiago Harbor. 'The fleet under my command 
offers the nation, as a Fourth of July present, the 
whole of Cervera's fleet," read Admiral Sampson's 

On July 3 General Shafter the head of the 
American armed forces in Cuba asked General 
Toral for the surrender of the Spanish land forces. 
On July 17, after a truce, the Spanish army officially 
surrendered, and the war was over. 


THE BATTLE OF SAN JUAN HILL. Richard Harding Davis, the celebrated war cor- 
respondent, vividly recounted the charge. He wrote that the Rough Riders "had no glitter- 
ing bayonets, they were not massed in regular array. There were a few men in advance, 
bunched together, and creeping up a steep, sunny hill, the top of which roared and 
flashed with flame It was more wonderful than any swinging charge could have been." 


REACHING THE TOP OF SAN JUAN HILL, as pictured by Frederic Remington. 
After the capture of the blockhouse, Roosevelt called on his men to charge the next line of 
Spaniards, who ran before them. "When we reached the trenches we found them filled 
with dead bodies in the light blue and white uniforms of the Spanish regular army." 


after the battle of San Juan Hill, 
the much-needed reinforcements 
arrived to hold the thin line. The 
9th Massachusetts and 34th 
Michigan regiments were rushed 
to the front and dug in. "We 
have won so far at a heavy cost," 
wrote Roosevelt, "but the Span- 
iards fight very hard and charg- 
ing their intrenchments against 
modern rifles is terrible." The 
success of the battle brought 
advancement to the leaders. 
Wood became brigadier general, 
Roosevelt was made a colonel. 


ROOSEVELT'S ENTRY in his war diary on July 
1, the day of the battle of San Juan Hill. "Rose at 
4. Big battle. Commanded regiment. Held extreme 
front of firing line." Two days later he wrote to 
Cabot Lodge: "I commanded my regiment, I think 
I may say, with honor. We lost a quarter of our men 
. . . how I have escaped I know not; I have not 
blanket or coat; I have not taken off my shoes even; I 
sleep in the drenching rain, and drink putrid water." 
He was contented; he had proved himself on the 
battlefield. His hat, full of holes, was draped with a 
blue bandanna, shading his neck from the sun. Boots 
mud-soaked, shirt bathed in sweat, he was a soldier. 


Roosevelt poses with the Rough Riders on the very 
spot where they fought. The picture was taken by 
William Dinwiddie, one of the outstanding photog- 
raphers of the Spanish- American War. 


In the attack on the San Juan hills, the American 
forces numbered 6,600 men, facing 4,500 Spaniards. 
Roosevelt's Rough Riders had 490 men in the battle, 
bound together by their common experience. 

They were like children, proud of their accom- 

plishment, and sang lustily: 

"Rough, rough, we're the stuff. 

We want to fight, and we can't get enough, 



was a fat, jovial man, his corpulence serving the correspondents with an easy butt for ridicule. 
While en route to the war he read the account of the British expedition of 1741, which 
landed at Guantanamo with 5,000 men and attempted to take Santiago. At that time Lord 
Vernon, the British general (after whom Washington's Mount Vernon was named), made 
the fatal mistake of ordering his men to repair the roads as they were advancing toward the 
city. And though the Spanish troops offered scant opposition, two thousand of the English 
"died on their feet" during the march. The expedition had to be abandoned when the rem- 
nants of the disease-stricken and exhausted Britishers were still sixteen miles from Santiago. 
General Shafter, keeping in mind the failure of the English campaign, was determined 
to avoid the mistake of Lord Vernon. He was not impetuous; he was careful, and 
his mind worked slowly. He would not be rash, he would not make a risky landing at the 
entrance of Santiago Harbor as Admiral Sampson suggested, and he would not attack 
Santiago until he had ample ammunition and provisions on hand. He knew that "the 
campaign was a race between the physical vigor of the men and the Cuban malarial fever 
that lay in wait for them." To a man of Roosevelt's temperament, such a cautious attitude 
was distasteful. "Not since the campaign of Crassus against the Parthians has there been so 
criminally incompetent a general as Shafter," wrote Roosevelt to Cabot Lodge after the 
battle of San Juan Hill. And two days later: "It is criminal to keep Shafter in command. 
He is utterly inefficient, and now he is panic struck." Roosevelt heaped his abuse on 
Shafter because the general kept on negotiating with the Spaniards, because he tried to 
bring an end to the war without any further fighting. In reality, Shafter not a heroic man 
did a commendable job; without risking a single American life, he captured Santiago. 


THEIR FIGHT IS DONE. After the Spanish army surrendered to the American forces, 
the Cuban guerrillas crowded in long lines before the arsenal at Santiago, where they had 
been ordered to turn in their arms. For years they had fought their oppressors, for years 
they had kept the Spanish troops at bay, for years they had sacrificed themselves for the 
freedom of their land. Now, with the war over, they were to return to their homes and take 
up life as they had left it. They were free men now free forever of the harsh Spanish rule. 


White House, President McKin- 
ley waits for the news from Cuba. 
The Spanish-American War was 
one of the shortest in history, 
lasting only twenty-three days. 
The first land battle at Las 
Guisimas was fought on June 
24; on July 15 the Spanish army 
was ready to surrender. 

The losses of the American 
expeditionary force were no more 
than 243 killed and 1,445 
wounded, but more than twice 
that number died after the end 
of the war, of diseases which the 
men had contracted in Cuba. 



THE ROUND ROBIN. The letter of the general 
officers in Cuba, urging the return of the ailing troops. 

After the surrender of Santiago a severe form of 
malarial fever spread among the American expedi- 
tionary force; more than four thousand men were on 
the sick list. General Shafter implored the War 
Department to order the army home, but the Secre- 
tary of War, fearing that they would bring with 
them the germ of yellow fever, replied: "The troops 
must all be put in camps as comfortable as they can 
be made and remain, I suppose, until the fever has 
had its run." In a meeting of division and brigade 
commanders and the chief medical officers, who 
were unanimously for the return of the troops, Gen- 
eral Shafter proposed "some authoritative publication 
which would make the War Department take action 
before it was too late to avert the ruin of the army." 

Roosevelt the only one among the high officers 
who was to return to civilian life and therefore 

could freely criticize the War Department was the 
obvious man to issue such publication. He agreed to 
give an interview to the press, but General Wood 
advised him to make his statement in a letter to 
General Shafter. Roosevelt followed the advice and 
penned a letter, which was handed then to the Asso- 
ciated Press correspondent, who cabled it to America. 
"To keep us here," wrote Roosevelt, "in the 
opinion of every officer commanding a division or a 
brigade, will simply involve the destruction of thou- 
sands." He urged that with fifteen hundred cases of 
malarial fever, the men should be recalled to a cooler 
climate in the northern part of America. "Six weeks 
on the North Maine coast," Roosevelt wrote, "where 
the yellow-fever germ can not possibly propagate, 
would make us all as fit as fighting-cocks, as able as 
we are eager to take a leading part in the great cam- 
paign against Havana in the fall, even if we are not 
allowed to try Porto Rico." 


;^^^^'j,>vM'*' l '.tt Xvv,t ? _a 


After Roosevelt's letter was 
already in the hand of the Asso- 
ciated Press man, General Wood 
dictated a statement in identical 
terms the celebrated Round 
Robin which was signed by 
Roosevelt and seven generals. 

As it happened, days before 
the Secretary of War received the 
officers' communication, he had 
already issued orders for the re- 
turn of the troops. Thus, neither 
Roosevelt's letter nor the Round 
Robin could have had any bearing 
on his decision. Still, in the mind 
of the public it was Colonel 
Roosevelt who was instrumental 
in getting the boys home a feat 
which increased his popularity. 



The campaign lasted only two weeks; it consisted of six skirmishes, in which only four 
Americans were killed and forty wounded. On August 13 the hostilities came to an end. 


The American flag was raised on Wake 
Island on July 4, 1898, by General F. V. 
Greene and a small landing party. A 
special correspondent for Harper's Weekly, 
who accompanied the expedition on the 
China, described the coral atoll as a bar- 
ren waste stretching along for twenty 
miles, "with an oblong lagoon, cut from 
the sea by shallow reefs, over which the 
waves constantly break, eating their way 
into the heart of the island. A dreary, 
sun-beaten spot " And he mused: "Per- 
haps this heretofore unclaimed island may 
some day be used as a telegraph post, or 
even a coaling station. It lies well on the 
way to Manila and therefore has been vis- 
ited only by a few exploring expeditors." 


THE ANNEXATION OF HAWAII. U. S. Minister Sewall presenting to President Dole, 
at the Palace, Honolulu, an official copy of the act of annexation, August 12, 1898. Imme- 
diately thereafter the Hawaiian flag was hauled down and replaced by the Stars and Stripes. 


detachment of First Colorado Volunteers advancing 
to attack Fort San Antonio Abad in the Philippines 
on August 13, 1898. 

A week before, Admiral Dewey asked the Spanish 
governor general in Manila to surrender the city. 
Though the reply was negative, the governor gen- 
eral in fear of the insurgents sent word that the 
Spanish troops would not offer serious resistance. 

Aguinaldo, the head of the Philippine insurgents 
and the self-proclaimed President of the independent 
Philippine republic, demanded that his troops and 
the American forces should jointly occupy the islands. 

But President McKinley directed the leaders of 
the American forces that there should be no joint 
occupation. "The insurgents and all others must 
recognize the military occupation and authority of 
the United States." Thus the Spanish flag came down 
and the Stars and Stripes went up over Manila. 


Colonel Theodore Roosevelt as he landed at Mon- 
tauk Point from the military transport Miami. On 
the pier he perceived Mrs. John A. Logan, the 
mother of a fellow officer, and he greeted her warmly. 

To an officer who welcomed him, Roosevelt said: 
"I am feeling disgracefully well. I feel positively 
ashamed of my appearance when I see how badly 
off some of my brave fellows are." 

He moved with the troops to the detention camp 
at Montauk Point Camp Wikoff. Constantly in the 
public eye, a national hero, he was soon visited at the 
camp by New York politicians, who within days 
made him the official Republican candidate for the 
gubernatorial office of New York State. 

HOME AT LAST. The 24th Infantry a gallant 
regiment of colored troops marches into the Mon- 
tauk camp after their triumphant return from Cuba. 


Dwight D. Eisenhower 
at the time Theodore 
Roosevelt fought in the 
Spanish -American War. 


Harry S. Truman, as he 
looked a year before the 
Spanish -American War. 


Winston Churchill in 
1898. The next year he 
was a news correspond- 
ent in the Boer War. 


Theodore Roosevelt, as 
he looked in 1898 when 


PHOTOGRAPHING THE COLONEL was the favorite pastime of the visitors who came 
to the Montauk camp of the Rough Riders. And Roosevelt posed obligingly with men and 
animals alike. He was the most popular man in the camp and welcome copy for newspapermen. 

Montauk on September 4. When he perceived Roo- 
sevelt, he left his carriage and shook T. R.'s hand. 


the Rough Riders were on the most cordial terms. 
He called most of them by their first names. 

Z "and then I lhall be footloose. Just at the moment there is a voc.ferous popular de- 



FAREWELL TO THE ROUGH RIDERS. On September 15, 1898, the troops were 
mustered out at Camp WikofT. In the morning a delegation of soldiers fetched Roosevelt to 
a table outside his tent, on which was a mysterious object wrapped in an army blanket. 

From the ranks stepped Will S. Murphy of M Troop and, on behalf of the troops, 
presented the colonel "as a very slight token of admiration, love and esteem in which you 
are held by the officers and men of your regiment, a bronco buster in bronze." 

When the cheering subsided, Roosevelt made a little speech. "I am proud of this regi- 
ment beyond measure," he begam. "I am proud of it because it is a typical American regi- 
ment. The foundation of the regiment was the cow puncher, and we have got him here 
in bronze," he continued. Then he went on: 

"No gift could have been so appropriate as this bronze of Frederic Remington. The men 
of the West and Southwest horsemen, ridemen and herders of cattle have been the back- 
bone of this regiment, which demonstrates that Uncle Sam has another reserve of fighting 
men to call upon if the necessity arises. 

"Outside of my own immediate family ... I shall never show as strong ties as I do 
toward you. I am more than pleased that you feel the same toward me." 

The Rough Riders cheered, and the men who stood behind them watching the ceremony 
cheered too; they belonged to the 9th and 10th colored cavalry regiments. Recognizing 
them, Roosevelt complimented the colored men on their heroism. He recalled: "The Span- 
iards called them 'smoked Yankees' but we found them to be an excellent breed of Yankee." 

"Boys," Roosevelt said to his men as he concluded, "I am going to stand here, and I shall 
esteem it a privilege if each of you will come up here. I want to shake your hands I want 
to say good-by to each one of you in person." With wet eyes, the men filed before him. 



Roosevelt with two of the best-known war corre- 
spondents: Stephen Bonsall and Richard Harding 
Davis, in whose dispatches the Colonel was always 
pictured as a hero. On the right is Major Dunn. 


TEDDY THE HERO an imaginary painting of 
the Battle of San Juan Hill in which the dashing, 
galloping Roosevelt is leading his column into battle. 
The painter cared little for accuracy; he disregarded 
the fact that the Rough Riders had no horses in 
Cuba. But pictures like this were extremely popular; 
they created the hero image of Roosevelt, the fear- 
less Rough Rider, making him a legendary figure. 

TEDDY THE TERROR as pictured in Life on 
August 4, 1898, the very day the Round Robin tele- 
gram was dispatched to the War Department. 



United States into a colonial nation. The country's 
"Manifest Destiny," enforced by its victories on the 
battlefields and on the high seas, brought forth four 
dependencies: Cuba, Puerto Rico, the Philippines, 
and Hawaii. An embarrassed Uncle Sam is pictured 

in this Puck cartoon looking at the basketful of in- 
fants. "Gosh!" he cries out. "I wish they wouldn't 
come quite so many in a bunch; but if I've got to 
take them, I guess I can do as well by them as I've 
done by the others!" The "others," dancing on the 
left, are labeled Texas, California, and New Mexico. 


THE OFFICIAL END OF THE WAR. On April 11, 1899, in President McKinley's 
office, Secretary of State John Hay signed the memorandum of ratification on behalf of the 
United States. A few months earlier Hay wrote to his friend Theodore Roosevelt the oft- 
quoted sentence: "It has been a splendid little war, begun with the highest motives, carried 
on with magnificent intelligence and spirit, favored by that fortune which loves the brave." 

The peace negotiations began on July 26, 1898. On August 10 President McKinley 
submitted a protocol which asked for "the evacuation of Cuba by Spain with the relin- 
quishment of sovereignty, the cessidn of Porto Rico and one of the Ladrone Islands to the 
United States as indemnity, and the occupation by the United States of Manila and 
Manila Bay." Spain signed it on August 12. 

On October 1, when the peace commission met in Paris, McKinley had no fixed plan 
for the Philippines. With little help from the politicians, he turned to God. "I went down 
on my knees and prayed Almighty God for light and guidance more than one night," he 
said. "And one night late it came to me this way I don't know how it was, but it came: 

(1) that we could not give them back to Spain that would be cowardly and dishonorable; 

(2) that we could not turn them over to France or Germany our commercial rivals in the 
Orient that would be bad business and discreditable; (3) that we could not leave them to 
themselves they were unfit for self-government and they would soon have anarchy and 
misrule over there worse than Spain's was; and (4) that there was nothing left for us to do 
but to take them all and to educate the Filipinos, and uplift and civilize and Christianize 
them, and by God's grace do the very best we could by them as our fellowmen for whom 
Christ also died." In this way the Philippines became an American dependency. 

On December 10 Spain signed the treaty; on February 6, 1899, the U. S. Senate ratified it. 




In the summer of 1898, Senator Thomas Collier Platt, the all-powerful 
Republican boss of New York State, was faced with a grave dilemma. He had 
to decide on a candidate for the New York governorship, and he had none. 
He would have liked to see the renomination of Governor Frank S. Black, but 
he knew that Black could not be re-elected; his extravagant administration of 
the state's canal system had caused such an outcry that his chances for win- 
ning the election were poor. Platt had to find a new candidate. 

The name which reached him most frequently and for which there was a 
real popular clamor was that of Theodore Roosevelt, the Colonel of the Rough 
Riders, the hero of San Juan Hill. 

Chauncey M. Depew, President of the New York Central Railroad and 
influential figure in New York politics, told Platt: "If you nominated Gover- 
nor Black, and I am addressing a large audience and I certainly will the 
heckler in the audience will arise and interrupt me saying: 'Chauncey, we all 
agree with you about the Grand Old Party and all that, but how about the 
canal steal?' I have to explain that the amount stolen was only a million, and 
that would be fatal. But if Colonel Roosevelt is the candidate I can say to the 
heckler with indignation and enthusiasm: 'I am mighty glad you asked that 
question. We have nominated for governor a man who has demonstrated in 
public office and on the battlefield that he is a fighter for the right and 
is always victorious. If he is elected you know and we all know from his dem- 
onstrated characteristics courage and ability that every thief will be caught 
and punished, and every dollar that can be found will be restored to the public 
treasury.' Then I will follow the colonel leading his Rough Riders up San 
Juan Hill and ask the band to play 'The Star-Spangled Banner.' " 

So Plattt sent his emissary, Lemuel Ky Quigg, to see Roosevelt at his tent 
at Montauk and sound him out. Quigg asked the Colonel whether he would 
accept the Republican nomination for governor. Roosevelt beamed. "Would 
I?" he roared. "I would be delighted." And Quigg replied: "Then count on 
Senator Platt's support. Come to the Fifth Avenue Hotel and see him." 

That Roosevelt should become "Platt's candidate" upset the reform element 
in New York, who had expected his leadership in their fight for good govern- 
ment. But Roosevelt was forever a faithful Republican; he did not leave the 
party in 1884 when the Republicans chose Blaine as their presidential candi- 
date, and he would not disassociate himself from Senator Platt and his party 
now. Forced to decline the nomination of the independents, he turned his 
back on his former political allies, soon speaking of the Reverend Dr. Park- 
hurst as "that silly goose" and lumping Carl Schurz and Editor Godkin 


together with "the idiot variety of 'Goo-Goos' " (the advocates of Good 

After a strenuous campaign, in which he toured the state in his flag- 
bedecked special train, Roosevelt defeated his Democratic opponent, Augustus 
Van Wyck, the candidate of Tammany Hall, by the slim margin of 18,000. Thus, 
at the age of forty he returned to Albany, installing himself and his family in 
the governor's mansion. 

Before his nomination he gave a promise to consult Platt on all appointments 
and policy matters. "He religiously fulfilled this pledge," Platt said later in his 
autobiography, "although he frequently did just what he pleased." Usually 
the two men met over breakfast at the Fifth Avenue Hotel in New York City. 
Roosevelt came down from Albany to meet the Senator at "Amen's Corner," 
the nickname for the niche reserved for Platt at the hotel. These breakfasts were 
vigorously criticized as evidence of the Governor's subservience to the Senator, 
but Roosevelt said: "My object was to make it as easy as possible for him to 
come with me. As long as there was no clash between us there was no object 
in seeing him; it was only when a clash came or was imminent that I had to 
see him. A series of breakfasts was always a prelude to some active warfare." 

And warfare it was from the beginning. The first run-in with Boss Platt 
came when the new governor appointed his own public works commissioner 
and not the man Platt had chosen for him. This as Roosevelt recalled 
"produced an explosion." But there was a far bigger explosion several months 
later when, casting about for a strong reform issue, Roosevelt championed a 
twice-defeated bill to impose a special tax on public service corporations in 
proportion to the value of their franchises. Since most of the big corporations 
were paying the party organization for protection against just such legislation, 
Platt pleaded and threatened in the strongest terms for the governor to desist. 
Roosevelt would not listen. When the enraged speaker of the Assembly tore 
up his message rather than read it, he followed up his first message with 
a second one, forcing the Legislature to pass it. 

The outraged Platt sent Roosevelt a severely critical letter. "You were a little 
loose on the relations between capital and labor, on trusts and combinations, 
and, indeed, on those numerous questions which have recently arisen in poli- 
tics affecting the security of earnings and the right of a man to run his own 
business in his own way, with due respect of course to the Ten Commandments 
and the Penal Code," wrote Platt. And he accused Roosevelt that his stand 
on the franchise tax had caused businessmen to "wonder how far the notions of 
Populism, as laid down in Kansas and Nebraska, have taken hold upon the 
Republican party of the State of New York." 

Roosevelt answered the charges squarely, his reply reflecting his emerging 
philosophy on the whole issue of government and business. "I do not believe 
that it is wise or safe for us as a party to take refuge in mere negation and to 
say that there are no evils to be corrected," he wrote. Republicans should 
oppose "improper corporate influence" on the one hand while opposing the 
"demagogy and mob rule" of Populism on the other. Firmly in the saddle, he 
would not be subservient to Platt and the Republican machine. 


The other major battle of the two men came early in the following year when 
the Governor made it known that he would not reappoint Insurance Commis- 
sioner Lou Payn, whose term was about to expire. Payn, a former lobbyist for 
Jay Gould, was financially involved with some of the very companies his office 
was supposed to regulate. To Platt, Payn's reappointment seemed essential; the 
insurance companies under Payn's jurisdiction were the biggest customers for 
the securities issued by corporations on the Republican preferred list. 

Senator Platt realized that for him and his forces another gubernatorial 
term of Roosevelt would be disastrous. In two more years the headstrong 
Rough Rider could virtually destroy the state's Republican machine. The idea 
presented itself: why not "kick him upstairs" to the Vice Presidency where he 
could do no harm to the party and where his name and fame would be an asset? 

To achieve this two obstacles had to be overcome. One was the reluctance 
of Roosevelt himself, who had no desire to be put on the shelf. He told Platt: 
"The more I have thought it over the more I have felt that I would a great 
deal rather be anything, say a professor of history, than vice president." The 
other difficulty was the unwillingness of Mark Hanna, the top leader of the 
party, to put the name of "that crazy cowboy" on the Republican ticket. 

But by the time the Republican convention opened in Philadelphia, there 
was such an overwhelming demand for Roosevelt's nomination that both 
Hanna and Roosevelt had to acquiesce to the wishes of the delegates. Thus 
Roosevelt was nominated by acclamation despite Hanna's angry warning that 
there would now be "only one life between this madman and the White House." 

Henry Cabot Lodge, who had been confident from the first that the Vice 
Presidency would lead to "more important things," had assured his friend that 
"the way to make a precedent is to break one." Still Roosevelt felt that the 
Vice Presidency marked the end of his political career. 

Nonetheless, he pitched into the campaign with his usual extraordinary 
vigor, his appetite for the fight greatly whetted by the fact that the Democrats 
had renominated William Jennings Bryan on a platform denouncing the 
"imperialism growing out of the Spanish War." Before -he romplrtpri his tour, 
he had traveled more than 21,000 miles on his special train, had made a thou- 
sand speeches, and had been seen or heard by more than three million people. 
"Tis Tiddy alone that's runnin'," observe i Mr. Dooley, "an' he ain't a-runnin', 
he's gallopin'." 

The contest was won by the Me Kinley- Roosevelt ticket, with an 849,000 
plurality, the largest Republican victory in more than a quarter century. Boss 
Platt could breathe easily his unmanageable governor was removed to 
Washington, and for a long time if not forever was relegated to the political 
graveyard. Or so he thought. 



"I am not having an entirely pleasant campaign/' 
wrote Roosevelt to Cabot Lodge. "I may win yet, 
and I am going in to do everything that can be done.' 1 
He toured the state in a flag-bedecked train, escorted 
by Rough Riders and heralded by buglers. Stumping 

the state relentlessly, he spoke on national issues and 
told his audiences that a vote against Republicans 
would be a vote against "the flag we fought for this 
summer." Still, things went badly until a remark of 
Tammany boss Richard Croker served him with a 
good campaign issue. Croker refused to support the 


signed two affidavits to avoid payment of taxes, one 
in Oyster Bay, the other in New York City, lawfully 
he was ineligible for the New York governorship. 


renomination of a Supreme Court Justice because 
that man showed "undue independence" and no 
consideration for Tammany Hall. It was a clear 
attack on the nonpartisan judiciary, and the angered 
electorate voted against the Tammany candidate, 
Augustus Van Wyck. Thus, Roosevelt was elected. 


Senator Thomas C. Platt -who, from his home at 
49 Broadway, "ruled" the state of New York. 


THE GOVERNOR OF NEW YORK riding in the Dewey celebration. Admiral Dewey, 
the hero of Manila Bay, was given a tumultuous welcome by the New Yorkers, but the 
Rough Rider hero of San Juan Hill was not neglected by the cheering audience even if 
in this photograph nobody seems to be looking at Roosevelt, who led the colorful procession 
attired in a formal suit and a silk top hat, dignified, solemn, looking every inch a governor. 



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with food iatontioaa. ttoy vor 
to ooo dioboiiMly robtftod tbaa a 

! to no tbo Uno law doooatly 


THE FIRST MENTION OF THE BIG STICK. In a letter to Henry L. Sprague, who 
served with him in the New York Assembly, Roosevelt wrote on January 26, 1900: "I have 
always been fond of the West African proverb: 'Speak softly and carry a big stick; you will 
go far.' " The phrase later became a Roosevelt trade-mark; he was drawn with the big stick 
in hundreds of cartoons, and people referred to his "big stick" policies. 

Roosevelt used the proverb in connection with the celebrated Payn affair. Louis F. Payn 
had been Superintendent of Insurance. When his term came to a close, Roosevelt would 
not reappoint him. But to Boss Platt, Payn's rcappointment seemed essential; the insurance 
companies under Payn's jurisdiction were the biggest customers for the securities issued by 
corporations on the Republican preferred list, and Payn was thus a needed link between 
business and politics. Platt threatened Roosevelt with political destruction if he denied 
Payn's reappointment; still Roosevelt would not yield. In his eyes Payn was involved in 
dishonest practices when, out of a seven -thousand-dollar-a-year salary, he "saved enough 
to enable him to borrow nearly half a million dollars from a trust company, the directors 
of which are also the directors of an insurance company" under his supervision. 

On the night before the governor was to send in the name of his own candidate, Francis 
Hendricks, to the Senate for confirmation, a Platt lieutenant met with him at the Union 
League Club for a final appeal. Roosevelt declined. "You know it means your ruin," said 
the man. "Well, we'll see about that," replied Roosevelt. "You understand the fight will 
begin tomorrow and will be carried on to the bitter end," continued the agent. By then 
Roosevelt had started for the door. "Hold on!" said the agent. "We accept. The senator is 
very sorry, but he will make no further opposition." And Roosevelt later recalled in his 
Autobiography: "I never saw a bluff carried more resolutely through to the final limit." 



"HANDS OFF, TOMMY! I'll do the driving," THE BULL TEDDY gores toreador Platt in this 

exclaims Governor Roosevelt in this New York Herald C. G. Bush cartoon of the World. Boss Platt, with 

cartoon, when Senator Thomas Platt the New York whom Roosevelt constantly clashed on legislative 

political boss attempts to take over the reins from and patronage matters of the state, cries out: "Peace 

his hands. Roosevelt would not be thwarted. is beautiful but visionary! It is not for this age." 

SVENGALI PLATT hypnotizes Roosevelt in this 
Davenport cartoon of the Journal. "He wept with 
delight when Platt gave him a smile, and trembled 
with fear at his frown," reads the caption, alluding 
to the demoniac Svengali in Du Maurier's Trilby. 

"THE EASY BOSS." In this C. G. Bush cartoon 
of the New York World, Platt leads the reluctant 
governor into the corporation paddock after Roo- 
sevelt called an extra session of the legislature to deal 
with the controversial franchise tax on corporations. 





Platt and other New York party leaders, in 
their desire to ease Roosevelt out of the 
gubernatorial chair, proposed that he be 
"kicked upstairs" and made a vice-presi- 
dential candidate. Roosevelt, fighting against 
their move, issued the statement printed 
on the right on February 13, 1900. 

He M.e>mliMUe ffe>r aT*ra*r. , 
'rnor Rooaevelt ha* been at^onlahed at 
I'omlwr of lettera and telefframa he hM 
"l from Kentucky and the South. 
MM* him (or hla expreaalon of good wilt 

The olerka of the dtpartmant tl 

ed a lovtnv cup to Mr. Payn. Ha addreaaad 
to them a latter In which TM thanked them 
and aatd that he wai gratifled to lay down hU 
work to a man "ao eminently qualified in 
every wa.v." 


Governor Makes the Definite Announcement That 

under No Circumstances Win He Accept the 

Nomination for the Vice residency. 

AMUNT. Monday.-Oovarnor Booaavtlt cave out to-day tbto statement relative 
to th Vie* Preeldency:- 

"In view of the continued atatamenta In the preai that I mar be urged aa a 
candidate for Vice President, and In view of the. many lettera that r*ach DM 
dvlalng for and acalnat auoh a courae, H la proper for ma to atate definitely that 
under no olrcumatancea could 1 or would Z accept the nomination for tha Vice 

"It la needleaa to aay hew deeply I anpreeitte th* honor onfarrad upon ne 
hy tht merr dealre to place me to ao hujh and dtcnift^l a portion, but it aaww 
to me clear that at tba preaant time my duty la her* in tha Kate whoa* people 
thoM me to he Governor, dreat problem* have been faced and are being partly 
tlved in thla Mate at thla time, and If the people ao dealre I hope that the work 
thui be* u n I may help carry to a eucoeaaful conclusion." 

Uovernor RooMvalt. In g\r\ng out hia atatamaat. wUd^'I am happy to atate 
the t Senator Platt cordially aoQulaaoea in my view* In the matter." 

A^rll 23rd, 1900. 

Dear Cabot: 

I Hr,d you the Inc lowed a a sample of the litorully 
hujidT-rrt of let tor* that I an receiving. All nor friend* in the 
W8t *e- t b" hoatl^to my taking the vloe presidential nomlration. 

By tha way, ! did not aay that I would not under any oircun- 
ntanoM accept the vioe T<re8l.,toncy. I have been careful *.o put it 
exactly as you ^H^* 

Always your t 

Hon. H. C. 

9nat^ Chamber, 

Washington, D.o. 

P. B. Since writing the abore the letter fron Proctor cane which 
1 also *Kvl to you. I find also that Silas Wright refuse* the nonln- 
ation of Vioe President on the ticket with ?oix afte^ he had been 
nominated, cane back and ran for Governor and was elected by a 
larger majority than that by thioh Polk carried the ft t ate. 

I thlnr. that one feature of the present situation is overlooked 
vli: that if i an now nominated for vioe president, it will be 

to get it out of the heads of a nuwtwar o." people that 

U'-e Machine had forced rat into it for tlieir own ninlster purpose 
and that I had yi^d*l fron weakness, ms they know I do not want 
the !>onitlon of Vloo President. 


Two months after Roosevelt issued 
the statement that "under no 
circumstances could I or would I 
accept the nomination for the 
Vice Presidency/' he sent a note 
to Henry Cabot Lodge saying, 
"I did not say that I would not 
under any circumstances accept 
the vice-presidency." Roosevelt 
remonstrated with his friend, 
who advised him to take the 
vice-presidency as "it is the true 
stepping stone for you either 
toward the Presidency or the 
Governor Generalship of the 
Philippines." Roosevelt argued 
that "if I am now nominated 
for vice-president, it will be im- 
possible to get it out of the heads 
of a number of people that the 
machine had forced me into it 
for their own sinister purpose 
and that I had yielded from 
weakness, as they know I do not 
want the position of Vice Pres- 
ident." Yet, he accepted it. 


A DEPRESSED ROOSEVELT sits with a gloomy 
expression between Senator Thomas C. Platt and 
Republican State Chairman Benjamin B. Odell at 
the Republican national nominating convention in 
Philadelphia. He was certain that the vice presiden- 
tial nomination would end his political career. 

He was in a quandary whether he should accept it 
or not. His friends Nicholas Murray Butler and 
Albert Shaw implored him to issue an unequivocal 
statement declining it, but Roosevelt told reporters 
that "if the nomination came to me by acclamation 
I cannot possibly decline it." After Senator Mark 



the head of New York's 
political machine, tried 
to keep an iron grip on 
Roosevelt, but when he 
failed he eased him into 
the vice-presidency. 


Roosevelt's most faithful 
and intimate friend, re- 
garded him as presiden- 
tial timber therefore 
urged him to accept the 
vice-presidential post. 

Hanna had an hour-long conference with Roosevelt, 
he was asked: "Do you think Roosevelt wants the 
nomination?" and Hanna replied: "Well, I don't 
know. He knows how he can stop it." But Mrs. Roo- 
sevelt, overheard by reporters, pleaded with her 
husband: "Now, don't say anything." 

desperation against the vice- presidential nomination. 


President and Vice-President. That President McKinley would be renominated was never 
in doubt. The question was who would be his running mate. Vice-President Garret A. 
Hobart had died in office, and the Republicans were not of one mind about his successor. 
Senator Allison and Secretary of the Interior Bliss, who were offered the nomination, had 
declined to accept it. 

Governor Theodore Roosevelt, one of the delegates-at-large (indicated by the arrow), was 
proposed by the New York boss, Thomas C. Platt, who wanted to get rid of the unmanageable 
governor and make him Vice-President. Platt, cynically supported by Matt Quay of Penn- 
sylvania, fought for Roosevelt's nomination, even though the New York governor so he 
protested was reluctant. But when Roosevelt walked into the hall holding onto his wide- 
brimmed campaign hat, which so resembled the headgear of the Rough Riders, a politician 
whispered to his neighbor, "That's an acceptance hat." 

Mark Hanna, the dominant force in the convention, violently opposed Roosevelt. "Don't 
any of you realize," he asked those who tried to persuade him, "that there's only one life 
between this madman and the White House?" But as Platt was adamant in his determina- 
tion to get Roosevelt out of New York, Mark Hanna had to acquiesce. 

As Roosevelt rose to second McKinley 's nomination, the convention gave him a tremendous 
ovation; it was oow obvious that the tide for his vice-presidency could not be stemmed. 
After the event, Hanna supposedly told McKinley: "Now it is up to you to live," 


MARK H ANNA ADDRESSES THE DELEGATES and puts President McKinley's name 
before them for renomination. The convention gave a rousing approval to his proposal. For 
the Republicans, McKinley was the ideal candidate. Solid, self-assured, smug he was the 
symbol of prosperity. Thus, the Republican ticket became "William McKinley, a western 
man with eastern ideas, and Theodore Roosevelt, an eastern man with western characteristics." 


cheered in the convention hall 
when the western delegations 
marched up and down the aisles, 
chanting in unison: "We want 
Teddy! We want Teddy." The 
feeling of the delegates was so 
strong, that if the bosses blocked 
Roosevelt's nomination, McKin- 
ley's re-election would have been 
in jeopardy. Mark Hanna said 
to newspapermen the night before 
Roosevelt's nomination: "Boys, 
you can't stop it any more than 
you could stop Niagara." 



This was how people remembered 
him. This was Roosevelt, the cam- 
paigner: his rimless eyeglasses with 
the dangling cord, his tie awry, his 
hand clutching the wide-brimmed 
hat, his high-pitched voice with the 
Harvard accent coining phrases 
against William Jennings Bryan and 
the policies of the Democrats. He 
said: "The success of the party rep- 
resenting the principles embodied 
in the Kansas City platform would 
bring about the destruction of all 
the conditions necessary to the con- 
tinuance of our prosperity." 

The photograph was taken on 
July 5, 1900, at the place where 
Abraham Lincoln debated with 
Stephen A. Douglas before the 
"Old Main" building of Knox Col- 
lege at Gaiesburg, Illinois. The 
campaign was still in an early stage. 
After the Republican ticket was 
chosen, Roosevelt wrote to Mark 
Hanna, who masterminded the 
campaign: "I am as strong as a bull 
moose and you can use me up to 
the limit, taking heed of but one 
thing and that is my throat. Two 
years ago in the New York cam- 
paign 1 only managed to hold out 
just barely to the end and could not 
have spoken for three days longer. 
Of course then I had to make some 
three hundred speeches in four weeks 
and carry the whole campaign on 
my own shoulders, so the case is not 
quite the same now. Still I do not 
want my throat to give out." 


Michigan girls at Saginaw watch Roosevelt. From Mrs. Roosevelt's campaign scrapbook. 

CAMPAIGNING. Tradition frowned upon a President making stump speeches in behalf 
of his re-election, thus the brunt of the campaign had to be borne by the vice- presidential 
candidate. Theodore Roosevelt dove into the contest like a duck into water. The Democrats 
accused President McKinley that he had aba >doned America's traditional anti-empire 
policy and subjugated millions of defenseless people. Roosevelt reminded his listeners that 
McKinley clearly stated in his acceptance letter that "no blow has been struck except for 
liberty and humanity and none will be," and that the ten million people who had come 
under the American flag were not subdued but liberated "from the yoke of imperialism." 
Roosevelt told his audiences: "We are not taking a single step which in any way affects our 
institutions or our traditional policies." The question was not "whether we shall expand 
for we have already expanded but whether we shall contract." 

For him, more important than the imperialist issue was "that of securing good govern- 
ment and moral and material well-being within our own borders. Great though the need 
is that the nation should do its work well abroad, even this comes second to the thorough 
performance of duty at home." He emphasized the need for an honest and responsible gov- 
ernment, a government which would keep the need of the citizens at heart. 

It was an arduous campaign, and Roosevelt enjoyed the speechmaking to the hilt. He 
had an intense dislike of Bryan and he blasted him with his usual vehemence. "What a thor- 
ough-faced hypocrite and demagogue he is, and what a small man!" wrote he to Cabot Lodge. 


THE REPUBLICAN CAMPAIGN POSTER boasted that McKinley was right in 1896 
when he would not open up "the mints of the United States to the silver of the world." But it 
neglected to say that, owing to new gold discoveries, the silver issue was no longer relevant. 


THE ISSUES OF THE CAMPAIGN. For the Democrats the paramount issues were im- 
perialism and legislation against the trusts. For the Republicans they were prosperity and 
the full dinner pail. For Rooseveltas he repeated in his speeches they were the honor 
and decency of the political leaders, a flag to be revered and respected, and, naturally, the 
depravity of the Democratic opponents, who must be defeated come what may. 


the Republicans was once again 
u The Full Dinner Pail." "Four 
years more of the full dinner pail/' 
screamed the posters, even though 
the abundance the campaign 
orators were talking about was 
mostly in their imagination. 
Workers earned little; the farmers 
struggled against hard times. 
Prosperity affected only the small 
upper class. Hardly a few weeks 
before the election, Mark Hanna, 
with banker J. Pierpont Morgan's 
help, averted a strike of the an- 
thracite miners, persuading mine 
owners to grant their employees 
a ten-per-cent wage increase. 


Roosevelt wherever he journeyed. They lined up at 
his platform, cheered him and pumped his hand, asked 
him for jobs and favors, rode next to his train. Roose- 
velt enjoyed such campaigning immensely. This 
scene, found in Mrs. Roosevelt's campaign scrapbook 
of 1900, was taken at Watertown, South Dakota. 

"HIS RUNNING MATE" reads the caption under 
this C. G. Bush cartoon in the New York World. To 
the American public it seemed that Theodore Roo- 
sevelt, who addressed meetings all over the country, 
was running for the presidency rather than McKinley, 
who during the entire campaign remained silent. 


ley kept away from the campaign. But he showed 
himself to the people and allowed his photograph 
to be taken with all the visiting delegations. 

THE RESULT of the election was a thumping 
victory for the Republican ticket. William McKin- 
ley and Theodore Roosevelt defeated William 
Jennings Bryan and Adlai G. Stevenson. (Stevenson, 
the grandfather of another candidate of later times, 
had previously served as Vice- President under 
Grover Cleveland.) The Republicans had 7,219,525 
popular votes against the Democrats' 6,358,737, 
their largest plurality in twenty-eight years. In the 
electoral college the McKinley-Roosevelt ticket 
received 292 votes against Bryan-Stevenson's 155. 

MARCH 4, 1901: The inauguration of President McKinley as he is sworn in by Chief 
Justice Melville Weston Fuller. Between the two stands a somber Theodore Roosevelt. It 
was not a happy day for him. For a man of Roosevelt's temperament, the vice-presidency 
had little to offer. It was an office as John Adams, the country's first Vice- President put 
it "the most insignificant . . . that ever the invention of man contrived." 

If Roosevelt was in a gloomy mood, Thomas Platt, who had eased him out of the guber- 
natorial chair at Albany, was in a happy one. As he walked to the inauguration, with a 
broad smile he remarked to a friend that he was attending "to see Roosevelt take the veil." 




Of all the jobs he held, Roosevelt liked the Vice Presidency the least. It was 
a post of limited scope, of small possibilities. There was little that he could do, 
and he felt that his political life was over. Not since Martin Van Buren in 1836 
had a Vice President succeeded a President, and this time the situation was 
different McKinley was no Andrew Jackson. 

But while Roosevelt saw his future in dark colors, his friends thought 
differently. They believed that he would be the exception to the rule; they were 
confident that he could break precedent and would be the first Vice President 
to be nominated for the Presidency. "I have no doubt that you will be 
the nominee in 1904," wrote his friend William Howard Taft, and Senator 
Lodge advised him to handle himself with caution so that there would be 
nothing against him when the time came. 

The year 1901, when Roosevelt took office under McKinley, was to be a 
fateful one for him, and it was already proving an interesting one for the 
nation. In January a great oil boom had begun in the previously untapped 
state of Texas when a well spouting 200 feet into the air was brought in near 
Beaumont. A government report showed that there was now an astonishing 
total of nearly 10,000 motor cars in the nation, and that one family in 66 was 
now equipped with a telephone. A month before McKinley's inauguration 
Governor-General Leonard Wood of Cuba, Roosevelt's former comrade-in- 
arms, had launched the Army's historic attack against yellow fever on the in- 
fested island. And on the very eve of the inaugural, J. P. Morgan & Com- 
pany announced the formation of a monster combine to be known as U. S. 
Steel Corporation, with an unprecedented capitalization of $1,400,000,000. 
"God made the world in 4004 B.C.," vent a current witticism, "but it was 
reorganized in 1901 by James J. Hill, J. Pierpont Morgan, and John D. 

The most controversial public issue at the opening of the McKinley admin- 
istration was raised but not settled in the campaign of the previous fall: the issue 
about the fate of the new territories which the United States had acquired over- 
seas as a result of the Spanish- American War. The treaty signed at Paris had given 
us unlimited control over Puerto Rico and the Philippine Islands and in the 
case of the Philippines our decision not to grant independence had pushed us 
into a bloody and demoralizing guerrilla war with the native liberation forces 
headed by Emilio Aguinaldo. The position of the McKinley administration, 
and presumably of a majority of Americans, was reflected by Kipling's injunc- 
tion of two years earlier to "take up the White Man's burden" a viewpoint 


amplified in a much-quoted speech by young Senator Albert J. Beveridge of 
Indiana, who pictured America as "the trustee, under God, of the civilization 
of the world." Yet this expansionist philosophy was bitterly contested by 
many others who felt that our Philippine policy of "pacification by force" was 
a total denial of what we had claimed to be fighting for in the war with Spain. 
Because of the intensity of feelings on this issue and the moral questions it 
raised, there was wild celebrating across the nation when, barely three weeks 
after McKinley's inaugural, the Philippine Insurrection was finally brought to 
an end by Major-General Frederick Funston's dramatic capture of Aguinaldo, 
who subsequently took an oath of allegiance to the United States. It was 
mainly due to the bitterness of the Philippine controversy that Americans 
thereafter turned increasingly away from the expansionist notions for which 
Beveridge had been cheered but a year earlier. 

Immediately after the inauguration, Roosevelt had taken up the Vice Presi- 
dent's duties as president of the Senate. The Senate session, as it happened, 
was only a five-day affair, devoted primarily to confirming various presidential 
appointments. The brevity of the session suited Roosevelt admirably, for he 
had little interest in the role of a parliamentary umpire and had frequently 
remarked when his vice-presidential candidacy was under discussion that 
he would find it both boring and exasperating to preside over debates in 
which he could not actively participate. As Chauncey Depew rather mildly 
put it, Roosevelt conspicuously lacked the "equable temper" desirable in 
such a situation. Nonetheless, his first appearance as Senate president was 
made into something of a family affair, with Edith, the children and a dozen 
other members of the Roosevelt clan watching in awe from the gallery. "He 
was very quiet and dignified," Mrs. Roosevelt reported to her sister. 

A fortnight later the Vice President was back with the family at Oyster Bay, 
his official duties presumably over with until December, when Congress would 
reconvene. The prospect of four more years of such inactivity still chilled him, 
and he began exploring the idea of resuming the law school studies he had 
begun at Columbia two decades earlier, partly to fill his time profitably and 
partly as an economic anchor to windward in the event that no worthwhile 
opportunity for continued public service were to present itself after completion 
of his term as Vice President- By May he had made arrangements to under- 
take legal studies upon his return to Washington in the fall under the guid- 
ance of Chief Justice White of the Supreme Court. Meanwhile, he lived what 
he rather apologetically termed a life of "unwarranted idleness" at Sagamore 
Hill, interspersed with several speaking tours and a hunting trip to Colorado 
in August. Late that month Edith took the children, who had been suffering 
from various minor ailments, to the Tahawus Club in the Adirondack Moun- 
tains for some invigorating mountain air, while Roosevelt went off on a speak- 
ing tour with plans for joining them in the mountains early in September. 

All of a sudden this peaceful life was cut short by a tragic event. At 4 
o'clock in the afternoon of September 6, as President McKinley was greeting 
visitors at a reception in his honor at Buffalo's Pan-American Exposition, the 
half-crazed anarchist Leon Czolgosz approached him with a revolver con- 


ccaled under a handkerchief. As McKinley reached out to shake hands 
with him, Czolgosz fired, pumping two bullets into the President's body. One 
of the bullets was harmless, merely grazing McKinley's chest, but the other 
penetrated the wall of his stomach. An emergency operation was performed 
at the hospital of the Exposition, after which the President was removed to 
the home of a political friend. 

The news reached Roosevelt that afternoon at Isle La Motte, on Lake 
Champlain, where he was attending the annual outing of the Vermont Fish 
and Game League. He immediately took a special train to Buffalo, arriving 
there the following day. To his relief, the news was good; the President's 
doctors were confident that McKinley would recover. To his sister Bamie, 
Roosevelt reported that "the President is coming along splendidly," adding: 
"Awful though this crime was against the President it was a thousand- 
fold worse crime against this Republic and against free government all over 
the world." Two days later he informed Lodge in Paris: "Long before you re- 
ceive this letter I believe the last particle of danger will have vanished; nor do 
I anticipate even a long convalescence." As there was no emergency, Roose- 
velt left Buffalo the following day to join his family in the Adirondacks and 
continue his vacation. 

But less than a week later, early on the morning of Friday, September 13, 
the President's condition took a severe turn for the worse and an urgent 
message was sent to Albany, where a courier was dispatched to notify the 
Vice President. The day before, Roosevelt, with Edith, Kermit, Ethel, and 
three friends, had started an overnight trip into the Mount Marcy area. 
Roosevelt, with the menfolk of the party, had gone to the summit and was on 
his way down early in the afternoon when a guide reached him with the fate- 
ful message. Signed by Secretary of War Elihu Root, it said: "The President 
appears to be dying, and members of the Cabinet in Buffalo think you should 
lose no time in coming." It was night time before Roosevelt made the 35-mile 
trip from the clubhouse to the nearest railroad, traveling in a buckboard at 
breakneck speed through the darkness on rough mountain roads. On board- 
ing his special train in North Creek just before dawn, he learned that Pres- 
ident McKinley had died at 2:15 that morning. 

Arriving in Buffalo early that afternoon, Roosevelt repaired to the place 
where the dead President lay, and paid his respects to Mrs. McKinley. Then, 
at about 3 o'clock, he joined the Cabinet members in the study of the Ansley 
Wilcox residence. "I will show the people at once that the administration of 
the government will not falter in spite of the terrible blow," he declared, his 
face grim and impassive. "I wish to say that it shall be my aim to continue, 
absolutely unbroken, the policy of President McKinley for the peace, the 
prosperity, and the honor of our beloved country." He then took the oath of 
office administered by Judge John R. Hazel of the United States District Court. 

Theodore Roosevelt was now President of the United States. 


* Ittl. 

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y 4*r tovmFMri-- 

I tkaak ym kMi&y 
f tk &Mk !%. I rtrall * tk* 
ft. X 

tk ut..t 

tt 4T If 

tk %! start 


** %k 14 ak tk la ** willift- 


This Berryman cartoon in the Washington 
caricatures Roosevelt as the president of the Senate. 
The public could not think of him as an impartial 
arbitrator; for the American people, Roosevelt 
was the dashing, fighting hero of San Juan Hill. 


On May 16, 1901, not long after the begin- 
ning of his vice-presidential term, Roosevelt 
wrote this letter to Governor Hugh S. 
Thompson, pondering about his future 

"If I get through the Vice Presidency I 
should like to get some position in a college 
where I could give lectures on United States 
history to graduates, and at the same time 
start to write a history of the United States. 
Although a republican politician, I really 
believe I could do absolute justice, or very 
nearly absolute justice, as between section 
and section. South Carolina has never re- 
ceived the proper recognition for the great 
part she played long before the lead she 
took in the nullification and secession move- 
ments." In his dark moments he felt that his 
political career would be finished with the 
end of the vice- presidential term. What was 
he to do after that? To become a writer? To 
#ecome a professor? To become a lawyer? 


THE IMAGE OF THE VICE-PRESIDENT. To cartoonists, Roosevelt was a much 
stronger personality than McKinley. But Roosevelt had a low opinion of the vice-presidential 
office. His main duty was to preside over the Senate, and as he was a thoroughgoing partisan 
with scant knowledge of parliamentary law and a temper at a low boiling point, he made a 
poor showing in the post. Fortunately for him, his rule was of short duration lasting from 
March 5-9, after which a recess was called. When the Senate reconvened, Roosevelt was 
already President and relieved of Senate duties. A newspaper account of the period tells an 
amusing incident of his senatorial rule. Convinced that all Democratic senators were ob- 
structionists, he once, when a vote was taken, bowed to the Republican side and said: "All in 
favor will say Aye," then turning to the Democratic side he called: "All those opposed say No." 



The President on li 
way to a reception , 
the Pan America 
Exhibition in Bu 
falo. A few minut 
after this photograf 
was taken, McKi 
ley was felled 1 
an assassin's bulli 


On September 6, as McKinley was attending a 
public reception in Buffalo's Temple of Music, Leon 
Czolgosz, an anarchist, moved toward him and 
discharged a revolver hidden in a handkerchief. 

crowd was waiting to greet President McKinley. 


here that the President, after struggling for his 
life for a full week, died on September 14, 1901. 

OUTSIDE THE HOUSE. Theodore Roosevelt and 
Mr. Milburn confer. They were waiting on the lawn 
for the doctor's report on McKinley's condition. 

THE VICE-PRESIDENT gives an interview to the 
press. Roosevelt had to answer a variety of questions 
thrown at him by the ever-present newspapermen. 


On September 6, 1901, the day the assas- 
sin shot the President, Roosevelt was a 



dinner guest of the Vermont Fish and Game League that a telephone message reached him with the 
on Isle la Motte in Lake Champlain. It was there news. He left immediately, hurrying to Buffalo. 


14, 1901 : The parlor of the Wilcox residence in Buffalo. The night before, when McKinley's 
condition worsened, Roosevelt was summoned from the Adirondacks, where he went after 
the doctors assured him that the President would pull through. By relays he was 
brought down in bouncing buckboards over tortuous roads. One driver said of the wild 
ride: "I made the last sixteen miles in one hour and forty-three minutes. It was the darkest 
night I ever saw. I could not even see my horses except the spots where the flickering lan- 
tern light fell on them." But Roosevelt urged him on: "Push along! Hurry up! Go faster." 




Part 3: 




While the ordinary man's attitude toward the new President was one of 
curiosity and expectation, that of the financier and big businessman was of 
trembling fear and jittery concern. The business moguls who, in the words of 
Henry Adams, had regarded McKinley as "nothing more than a very supple 
and highly paid agent," were ill at ease about the "damned cowboy" who now 
was the head of the state. Could they rely on him? The watchword of 
the 1900 campaign had been "stand pat," and Mark Hanna considered the 
outcome "a clear mandate to govern the country in the interests of business 
expansion." But Roosevelt had too many of the earmarks of a reformer, a boat- 
rocker, a meddlesome political adventurer. 

President McKinley was still alive when Douglas Robinson, Roosevelt's 
brother-in-law, sent Roosevelt a long letter by messenger, telling him that in 
New York's financial circles there was a fear that if he became President he 
might change matters so "as to upset the confidence." And after McKinley's 
death, Hanna himself urged the new President to "go slow." 

Roosevelt was thoroughly amenable to these pleas. He told the grief-stricken 
Hanna that he would not attempt anything out of the ordinary, and he 
pledged his word to continue his predecessor's policies. Wall Street took heart, 
and the "stand-pat" newspapers waxed lyrical. "Theodore Roosevelt is a man 
on whom the American people can rely as a safe and sagacious successor to 
William McKinley," wrote the conservative New York Sun. And Mr. Hanna 
praised the new President: "Mr. Roosevelt is an entirely different man today 
from what he was a few weeks since. He has now acquired all that is needed 
to round out his character equipoise and conservatism." 

However, to more perceptive observe! . the omens of trouble were not dif- 
ficult to perceive, for Roosevelt exhibited from the first a brash self-confidence 
that had not been seen at the White House in many a year. His manner was 
informal and to the delight of the newspapermen outspoken. He saw scores 
of visitors a day, listening to them attentively and dispatching them with 
machine-gun rapidity. "Every day or two," remarked one reporter, "he rattles 
the dry bones of precedent and causes sedate senators and heads of depart- 
ments to look over their spectacles in consternation." A few days after moving 
into the White House he shocked a delegation of Congressmen by telling 
them that "if I cannot find Republicans I am going to appoint Democrats" 
and two weeks later he proved it by making Thomas Goode Jones, a Democrat 
from Alabama, a federal judge. Soon conservative 'Southerners were stirred to 
fury when they learned that the President had invited Booker T. Washington, 


the distinguished Negro educator, to the White House an act which the 
Memphis Scimitar termed "the most damnable outrage ever." 

Senators and Congressmen who asked him illegitimate favors were firmly 
shown the door. A Texas Senator came in seeking promotion for an Army 
colonel who, he said, was favored by the entire Legislature of Texas despite 
the disapproval of his superior officers. "I don't give a damn for his superior 
officers!" said the Senator, to which Roosevelt replied: "Well, Senator, I don't 
give a damn for the Legislature of Texas." Before long, Finley Peter Dunne's 
"Mr. Dooley" was proposing an "emergency hospital f 'r office-holders an' 
politicians acrost th' sthreet fr'm th' White House." 

Roosevelt's eagerly awaited first message to Congress covered a score of sub- 
jects but was strangely mild in content. It dealt at some length with the grow- 
ing power of the great industrial trusts the biggest domestic issue of the time 
but the tone was that of caution. To the puzzled Mr. Dooley the message's 
equivocal words seemed to say that "th' trusts are heejous monsthers built up 
be th' inlightened intherprise iv th' men that have done so much to advance 
progress in our beloved country. On wan hand I wud stamp thim undher fut; 
on th' other hand not so fast." 

Three months later, however, all those who had found the message so reas- 
suring suffered a severe shock. Without warning to Wall Street indeed, with- 
out discussing it with his Cabinet Roosevelt authorized Attorney General 
Philander Knox to invoke the Sherman Anti-Trust Act against the Northern 
Securities Company, the new giant holding company which represented a 
merger of the vast Harriman and Hill railroad empires. 

The corporation lawyers who had formed Northern Securities were certain 
that it was invulnerable to legal attack; they based their opinion on the 
American Sugar Refining case six years earlier, when the Supreme Court had 
said in effect that the trusts were immune from prosecution because the fed- 
eral power to regulate interstate commerce did not include the power to reg- 
ulate acquisitions of stock. But when the Northern Securities suit was finally 
decided in 1904, the Supreme Court reversed its former verdict by a 5-4 
margin. The new decision meant that the government had the right to control 
powerful business combinations. 

From the outset, one of Roosevelt's strongest assets was his skill in molding 
public opinion and his readiness to appeal to the people over the heads 
of Congress. Soon after launching the Northern Securities case, he undertook 
a succession of speaking tours in which he repeatedly stated his deepening 
conviction that the nation must seek a middle course between "the demagogue 
who raves against wealth" and the plutocrat who denies that social evils exist. 
"When you can make it evident," he said in Boston, "that all men, big and 
small alike, have to obey the law, you are putting the safeguard of law around 
all men." The electorate approved such language. As the mid-term elections 
of 1902 approached, it seemed evident that Roosevelt would win a Republi- 
can endorsement from the voters but for one obstacle. 

That obstacle was a coal strike which had begun in the anthracite fields of 
eastern Pennsylvania on May 12, 1902, and dragged on through the summer 


and early fall with no end in sight. Some 140,000 miners, newly organized in 
the United Mine Workers, were involved in it, but the political danger came 
not from the workers but from the coal-consuming public. Lodge, writing 
Roosevelt in alarm, predicted "political disaster in New England" and 
quoted a typical constituent as saying: "We don't care whether you are 
to blame or not. Coal is going up and the party in power must be punished." 

In essence, the issue at the mines was union recognition. Repeatedly in the 
months before the strike was called, John Mitchell, the level-headed young 
president of the union, had asked the operators to meet with him to discuss 
wages and various grievances; just as often, the operators had told him they 
would deal with their workers only as individuals, not as a union. 

George F. Baer, president of the mine-owning Philadelphia & Reading 
Railroad, was the spokesman for the operators. He was haughty, arrogant, 
and full of his own importance. When Mitchell proposed arbitration by several 
prominent clergymen, Baer replied: "Anthracite mining is a business and not 
a religious, sentimental, or academic proposition." 

At the height of the strike, on September 3, Roosevelt suffered an accident 
at Pittsfield, Massachusetts, which almost proved fatal. He was forced to re- 
turn to Washington and be confined to a wheel chair. In this condition he in- 
vited the spokesmen of the operators and the miners to discuss a settlement 
with him. The meeting proved to be a bitter and fruitless one. Mitchell 
suggested that the President name an arbitration commission and offered to 
abide by whatever decision such a group might make. But the coal operators 
would not hear of such a proposal. They denounced Mitchell as an "outlaw" 
and an "instigator of violence and crime." Baer even went so far as to rebuke 
the President for asking them to "waste time negotiating with the fomenters 
of this anarchy." Roosevelt held his temper with difficulty. "If it wasn't for 
the high office I hold," he noted, "I would have taken him by the seat of the 
breeches and the nape of the neck and chucked him out the window." 

In the face of this seemingly hopeless situation, the President planned 
to send an army of 1 0,000 regulars into the coal fields, dispossess the operators, 
and dig the coal without regard to interference from the owners, strikers, or even 
the courts. When Secretary of War Elihu Root, a former Wall Street attorney, 
heard of the plan, he asked for permission to try once more to arrange a 
settlement through J. P. Morgan. Root and the banker met on Morgan's 
yacht, The Corsair, in New York harbor, and when they disembarked, Morgan 
had agreed to bring pressure on the mine operators to accept arbitration by 
a commission to be appointed by the President. 

The country approved the way Roosevelt handled the issue. The Review of 
Reviews described his performance as "the greatest event affecting the relations 
of capital and labor in the history of America." 



Charles Weber, an artist for Leslie's Weekly, where the 
drawing appeared on January 16, 1902. Roosevelt 
enjoyed the company of people, so did his daughter 
Alice (next to him) and Mrs. Roosevelt (next to 
Alice). There were dinners and parties, receptions 
and levees. When the President was criticized about 

the cost of such entertainments, he replied that all 
these sundry expenses were paid for out of his private 
pocket. "Apparently people do not understand . . . 
that I pay the butcher, the baker, and the grocer at 
Washington just as I do at Oyster Bay; and the pro- 
test is apparently against my having people whom 
I like lunch or dine with me at the White House." 

day he took office, Roosevelt wrote 
to Booker T. Washington, the Negro 
educator, suggesting a conference. 
The President wanted to talk about 
appointments in the South, to be 
based on merit. A month later he 
invited Dr. Washington to have din- 
ner at the White House, an invita- 
tion which created an uproar in the 
South. "The most damnable outrage 
ever committed," cried a Memphis 
newspaper. "A studied insult," 
headlined the New Orleans Picayune. 
Roosevelt retorted testily that he 
would ask Dr. Washington to his din- 
ner table as often as he pleased, but 
it did not take him long to realize that 
the invitation was a political mis- 
take which he did not repeat again. 



The German Prince Henry came to the United 
States in February 1902 on a good-will tour to 
offset the anti-German feelings in the country. 
The official reason for the Prince's visit was to take 
over the yacht built in an American shipyard for his 
brother, the German Emperor. President Roosevelt 

entertained him lavishly, and "took him out for a 
first-class two hours' ride in the rain." When it was 
suggested that Alice Roosevelt, who was to chris- 
ten the vessel, should also make a short speech, 
Roosevelt told the amused John Hay: "I hesitated, 
as the only motto sufficiently epigrammatic that 
came to my mind was 'Damn the Dutch!!!'" 


The ghost of President McKinley 
stands behind his successor, guiding 
his decisions. On taking office 
Roosevelt declared that he would 
continue "absolutely unbroken" the 
policy of McKinley. And when 
Mark Hanna wrote him to "go 
slow," Roosevelt promised to do so. 
Roosevelt asked all members of 
the McKinley Cabinet to keep their 
posts; he did not replace any of 
them. John Hay remained Secretary 
of State; LymanJ. Gage, Secretary 
of Treasury; Elihu Root, Secretary 
of War; John D. Long, Secre- 
tary of Navy; Ethan A. Hitchcock, 
Secretary of Interior; James Wil- 
son, Secretary of Agriculture; Phil- 
ander C. Knox, Attorney General. 




Roosevelt held that "Of all forms 
of tyranny the least attractive and 
the most vulgar is the tyranny of 
mere wealth, the tyranny of pluto- 
cracy." Determined to check the 
rise of the financial giants whose 
power overshadowed that of the 
federal government, he initiated 
a suit for the dissolution of the 
newly formed Northern Securities 
Company, which aimed at a rail- 
road monopoly in the Northwest. 
Under the label of the $400,000,- 
000 holding company, the bankers 
J. P. Morgan and Kuhn and Loeb 
Company had merged Edward 
H. Harriman's Union Pacific 
with James J. Hill's Northern 
Pacific and Great Western. 

The suit, filed in St. Paul and 
won by the government, was 
appealed, and the U. S. Supreme 
Court decided that the merger of 
the railroads was in violation of 
the Sherman Anti-Trust Act, 
ordering the dissolution of the 
Northern Securities. 

"It seems hard," said railroad 
baron Hill, ". . . that we should 
be compelled to fight for our lives 
against the political adventurers 
who have never done anything 
but pose and draw a salary." 


one of the powers behind the 
Northern Securities Company, 
was stunned when he heard that 
the President asked for the com- 
pany's dissolution. "If we have 
done anything wrong send your 
man [Attorney General Knox] to 
my man [his lawyer] and they 
can fix it up," he told Roosevelt, 
treating the President as if he 
were a rival operator. He wanted 
to know whether his other inter- 
ests would be attacked. "Not," 
replied Roosevelt, "unless we find 
out . . . they have done some- 
thing that we regard as wrong." 


b (Offirr. 

17t ** 

BJT dear Mxv Clarkt- 

Z have your letter of the 16th instant, 

I do not know who you are. I Ma that you are a relig~ 
lout man; but you art evidently biased in favor of the right of 
the working man to control a bueineaa in which ho has no other in- 
terest than to aoeuro fair mgos for the work b 6oee 

I beg of you not to be dlaoouraged* T>ie rights and ia 
tereate of the laboring man will be protected and cared for not 
by the labor agitator*, but by the Christian men to *hoa God In Bis 
Infinite wiadoea has given the control of the property intsrdats of 
the country, and upon the sucoooBful Management of wich so ouch de 

Bo not be discouraged Pray earnestly that right may 
triumph, always ranaabering tiiat the Lord God Otonlpot^nt dtill 
reigns | and that Bis reign is one of law and order, and not of Tio- 
lanco and orizae* 

tm(y f 


T. dark, 

AN AMAZING LETTER, by the spokesman of the coal barons: "The rights and interests 
of the laboring man will be protected and cared for ... by the Christian men to whom God 
in his infinite wisdom has given the control of the property interests of the country. . . ." 



Roosevelt speaks in Providence, 
R.I., on August 23, 1902. 







On September 3 Roosevelt, while driving in an open 
landau with Massachusetts Governor Murray Crane 
and presidential secretary George B. Cortelyou, 
barely escaped death. An electric railway car out- 
side Pittsfield, Mass., collided with his carriage, and 
the impact threw all the men in the vehicle onto the 
road. Secret Service man William Craig, sitting on 
the driver's box beside the coachman, fell'from his 
seat in front of the trolley and was run over. 
Cortelyou was severely wounded in the back of his 
head; Roosevelt's lip was cut, his face and leg 
bruised; only Governor Crane was unharmed. 

The accident occurred because people on the 
electric car urged the motorman to drive as near to 
the President as possible. Thus, when the track, 
which was running down the center of the road, 
turned toward the right in a narrow bend, the 
racing trolley could not stop in time to avoid colliding 
with the presidential carriage. (The place of the 
collision was not far from the house where Herman 
Melville wrote Moby Dick.) According to the news- 
paper report, "the car struck the rear wheel of the 


carriage on the left side and ploughed through the 
front wheel of the vehicle, which received the full 
force of the blow. The carriage was upset in the 
twinkling of an eye and one horse fell dead on the 

Half an hour later the presidential party resumed 
the journey to Lenox, where the President made a 
short speech, reassuring his listeners that he was not 
hurt. Then he proceeded through Great Barrington 
and New Milford to Bridgeport, Conn., where 
30,000 people had assembled at Seaside Park to 
greet him. The meeting over, Roosevelt joined Mrs. 
Roosevelt, Kermit, Ethel, and his mother-in-law, 
waiting for him on the gunboat Sylph, which took 
the family across the Sound to Oyster Bay. 

Sympathy messages came from all parts of the 
world. Emperor Wilhelm II of Germany sent his 
felicitations, as did King Edward VII of England. 
Thanking Edward for his wire, Roosevelt cabled 
him: "My hurts were trivial." This seemed so at 
first, but soon afterwards the bruised leg began to 
swell, an abscess developed and had to be drained. 
For weeks Roosevelt was confined to a wheel chair. 


at Indianapolis (September 23) Roosevelt 
spoke at Tipton, Indiana, on his policies. 


Two days after the Pittsfield accident Roosevelt was 
on the road again. His journey took him south; he 
spoke at Wheeling, W. Va., and addressed the con- 
vention of the Brotherhood of Locomotive Firemen 
in Chattanooga. Before returning to his home, he 
made speeches at Asheville and Greensboro, N.C. 
He remained at Oyster Bay only a week, then was 
off again this time he was traveling west. He spoke 
on the trusts and on tariff in Cincinnati, on Cuban 
reciprocity and the Philippine problems in Detroit, 
and on the creation of a tariff commission in 

On September 23 he addressed the Spanish- 
American War veterans at Indianapolis' Tomlinson 
Hall For the past few days his left leg, which he 
injured in Pittsfield, had caused him some pain. The 
doctors who were summoned at Indianapolis found 
that the bruise had developed into a small abscess 
and urged an operation to drain the leg and reduce 
the swelling. Roosevelt followed their advice and 
entered St. Vincent's Infirmary. The medical bulletin 
issued after the operation said that "there was found 
to be a circumscribed collection of perfectly pure 
serum in the middle third of the left anterior tibial 

region, the sac containing about two ounces, which 
was removed." 

While the doctors worked on the leg, Roosevelt 
was in high, spirits. He always loved the unusual, 
and for him an operation was unusual. He joked 
with the surgeons and the Sisters. He was given 
a local anesthetic, then an aspirator (a syringe that 
works backwards) was inserted into the swollen leg. 
Though he gritted his teeth, he would not keep 
silent. He told the surgeons that if they desired any 
expert information on the subject, "he could inform 
them that something was happening in the vicinity 
of his shinbone." 

Soon Governor Durbin and other politicians were 
admitted to the room. Roosevelt apologized to them 
that he had to cut short his tour, but the danger of 
blood poisoning had forced him to listen to his 
doctors' advice. 

In the evening the President was taken to his 
special train and put into bed with his leg propped 
up on pillows. A reporter noted* "He at once began 
to read a book." When he reached Washington 
though confined to a wheel chair he pursued life 
as actively as ever. A great problem waited for 
solution: the settling of the anthracite coal strike. 

doctors examined Roosevelt and advised surgery. 

ST. VINCENT'S HOSPITAL, where on September 
23 an operation was performed on his infected leg. 



On October 3 the wheel-chair-ridden President 
summoned the coal operators and the representatives 
of the miners to his temporary residence in Washing- 
ton. It was the first time in American history that a 


Ten days after the abortive confer- 
ence with the operators, J. Pierpont 
Morgan, the banker, came to Wash- 
ington to discuss with the President 
the settling of the coal strike. Roose- 
velt repeated to the financier that if 
the operators would not accept the 
proposal of an arbitration com- 
mission, he would send General 
Schofield with 10,000 soldiers to 
the mine fields, dispossess the mine 
owners, and run the mines under 
military rule. Returning to New 
York, J. P. Morgan persuaded the 
coal barons to accept arbitration. 

Chief Executive personally interfered in a labor dis- 
pute. On Roosevelt's left is John Mitchell of the 
United Mine Workers. Standing on the right is George 
F. Baer, president of the Philadelphia & Reading 
Railroad and spokesman for the mine operators. 



Octcbor 17, 1902. 

I>KT Cabot: 

On the migration of Koulke I shall write you one incident 
while it io freth on my Mind, in connection with thio coal etrike. 
Thn wild advice I have received in reference to it if really ex- 
traordinary. I aunt show you a letter from Stuyvoeant Finh which 
in as startling of its kind ae anything I have ever reed. Also 
another Gijood Dr. Yin Dyke wldch is to the effect that if feder- 
al troops ore eent Into th diotrict they ehould enforce altndea 
at the bayonet* a point on the operator a. 

The crisis cane at th* last nonent. Botwoeprthe houre of 
10 P.M. and 1 A.M. I had Perklna and Bacon on herein behalf of 
Mo PI on, but really representing the operator a. Neither Korean 
nor ar.yone elee had been able to do aueh with tiieoe wooden-headed 
gentry, and Bacon and Perkins wore literally alaost erasy. Bacon 
in particular had beeone so excited that I was quite concerned 
over hi. condition. The operators had Halted ae down^by a fool 
proviso, to five different types of man, including 'an eninent so- 
ciologist*. This voa a ridiculous provieo because T could have 
appointed bod non in every eaee and yet kept to ite letter? and 


they ought to haw* given ae a free hand. The oiaere, on the other 
hand, vented m to appoint at leaet two extra aeabere ayeelf, or 
in son* faehlon to get Biehop Spaidlng (wbo%l aveelf wwted), and 
a labor union aan on jtf I rofordotf their contention ae per- 
fectly reasonable, and eo iaforaetf Bacon end Perkine and the ope- 
rator e. Th operators refused point blank to haw* another asn 
added, and Bacon and Perkins oene on nearly wild to ear that they 
had full power to treat on behalf of the operator e, but that no 
extra asn should bo added. Finally it developed that what they 
aeant vac that no extra osn should be added if he wae a repre- 
sentative of organised labor J end argue ae I eould, nothinc would 
aake thea ehsngof although they grow aore end aoro hjrterieal, and 
not aoroly adaltted^but insisted/hat the failure to agroo -a ant 
probsble violenee and possible sooial war. it took as about 
two hours before I at last craeped the fact that the 'nighty brains 
of those ceptaina of industry had foraulatod the theory that they 
would rather have onerchy than fessodlodua, but that if I would ues 
the word tcoodlodoo they would hail it ae aeonlng pesos. IB 
other words, that they had not the slirfitost objection to ay ap- 
pointing a labor sun as "an sodnent sociologist*, end adding 
Bishop Spoiling on ay own aceount, but they preferred to soo the 
Rod Conoune coae then to hero as aako Bishop Spsldlng or anyone 
else */oaiacnt sociologist* and add the labor aan. I instantly 
told thea that I had not the elightost objection whatever to doing 


While the operators were ready to accept a five- 
man arbitration commission, they were not willing 
to see a representative of labor on the board. Roose- 
velt, in a last-effort letter to J. P. Morgan, said that 
with "a little ingenuity" he could appoint a board 
acceptable to both sides, and proposed increasing 
the number of commissioners to seven. That brought 
about a crisis. 

"Between the hours of 10 P.M. and 1 A.M.," 
wrote the President to Cabot Lodge two days later, 
"I had Perkins and Bacon on here, on behalf of 
Morgan, but really representing the operators. 
Neither Morgan nor anyone else had been able 
to do much with these wooden-headed gentry, and 
Bacon and Perkins were literally almost crazy. . . . 
The operators had limited me down, by a fool 
proviso, to five different types of men, including 
"an eminent sociologist." This was a ridiculous 
proviso. . . . The miners, on the other hand, wanted 
me to appoint at least two extra members myself. 
... I regarded their contention as perfectly reason- 


able, and so informed Bacon and Perkins and the 
operators. The operators refused point blank to have 
another man added. . . . Finally it developed that 
what they meant was that no extra man should be 
added if he was a representative of organized labor; 
and argue as I could, nothing would make them 
change. ... It took me about two hours before I at 
last grasped the fact that the mighty brains of these 
captains of industry had formulated the theory that 
they would rather have anarchy than tweedledum, 
but that if I would use the word tweedledee they 
would hail it as meaning peace. In other words, that 
they had not the slightest objection to my appoint- 
ing a labor man as "an eminent sociologist," and 
adding Bishop Spalding on my own account, but 
they preferred to see the Red Commune come rather 
than to have me make Bishop Spalding or anyone 
else the "eminent sociologist" and add the labor 
man. I instantly told them that I had not the slight- 
est objection whatever to doing an absurd thing 
when it was necessary to meet the objection of an 
absurd mind on some vital point, and that I would 

aa ibaurd thine whan it waa aeeeeeary to aoat tht *bjectian of an 
abawrf find on aono vital point, and that X would theerfully ap* 
point my labor MR M the'Wnant eoeiolofief. It wae atetat 
iapoaelble for M to appraeiata tho Inatant and traomdoue nliof 
thie ( ar thta. Tfcoy aev nothing offon-lTO la aiy Iowa* and 
nothini rediculoue in tht propoaltioa. and Piorpont Morgan aid 
Boar, whan called up by telephone, aaforly ratified the abaurdltr," 
and accordingly,** thie utterly uniaportant prloo j bid fair to 
cone out of M daafforouo a altuatloo oa I ovor < 
Lovo to Nonnio, 

Hon. H. C. Lodfa, U.3.S., 
Nahant. tfaaa. 

P. 8. 

In aoorooy. Stuyvoaant Hah* a propoaition w that tha bi 
tmdnoua ainara vara antitlad to aat all tha banafit thoy amid 
out of tha atoppafa of tha anthraeita aoal aupply, and that with 
" all dua raapact to my huBanitarian aotiTaa*' ha onat prataat an bo- 
half of the oparatora, dlnera and oarriara aneacd in tha bitvai- 
nou coal trada acainat any af fort of idna to aaaura a aattlaaaiit 

wlii oh would in tar faro to tha lagitiaato axtanaion of thair bttai- 
naoo/ Tha only analogy I oould think of would bo a protoat by 
th undartakara agaiaat tho izproper aotirity of tha Covoronont 
qnarantiao offioara in prwantiac tha adndttanca of AalaUo oholarm 
to our ahoraa. 

Aa for tha aultituda of eraaturaa who want no to Vw t)M 
ecal barona by tht throat^ on tha ono hand, or on tho othor hand, 
to *atasp out tha lawlaaanoai of tho tradoa uniona by tha inatant 
diiplay of foreo wdor tha penalty of being eonoidarod a < 
gogue - why, I couldn't begin to enumerate thra. 

T. R. 

cheerfully appoint my labor man as the "eminent 
sociologist". . . . Pierpont Morgan and Baer, when 
called up by telephone, eagerly ratified the absurd- 
ity; and accordingly, at this utterly unimportant 
price we bid fair to come out of as dangerous a 
situation as I ever dealt with." 

Thus, on October 16, with Roosevelt appointing 
the commission, the strike finally came to an end. 


In a railroad car moving from place to place in the 
coal district the seven members of the commission 
interviewed miners and listened to their grievances. 
From left to right: General John M. Wilson, Labor 
Commissioner Carroll D. Wright, E. E. Clark 
(showing his back), Judge George Gray, Edward 
W. Parker, Bishop John L. Spalding, and Thomas 
H. Watkins. On March 22, 1903, the commission 
awarded a 10 per cent wage increase to the miners 
but denied recognition of the United Mine Workers. 

LINES FOR COAL. It was now October. Ever since May 12, 147,000 miners had been 
idle in one of the longest strikes the country had ever known. Schools closed, factories and 
engine rooms were in dire need of fuel, hospitals cold. The discontent of the people grew, 
there was an ugly spirit in the air, the anger against the coal operators mounted. "Unless 
the strike is ended and fuel is reduced in price," wrote one New York newspaper, "there is a 
general impression that weather sufficiently cold to cause real suffering among the poor will 
drive thousands to the coal yards, where rioting will occur if they are denied the right to 
help themselves." But the price of coal rose to $25 a ton, and those who could acquire a 
quarter of a ton considered themselves lucky. The reserve policemen at every station were 

On the whole, the country sympathized with the strikers; it understood the legitimacy of 
their grievances. A miner in the coal fields earned not more than $10 a week. There were 
numerous fatal accidents in the mines 441 in 1901 alone and no workman's compen- 
sation. The housing accommodations in the company towns were at times preposterous, the 
prices in the company stores unfair, the weighing of the coal not equitable. 

When Roosevelt showed that he would not bow to the will of the arrogant operators and 
insisted on arbitration, his firmness was acclaimed by all those who were critical of the op- 
erators' behavior. His settling of the strike enhanced his stature; he had accomplished a deed 
that no other President had dared before he interfered in a dispute between capital and 
labor and forced the captains of industry to respect the rights and needs of the general public. 




The problems Roosevelt had inherited from the McKinley administration 
did not stop at the water's edge. The Spanish-American War had made the 
United States an imperial power with large overseas possessions. It was a 
novel experience and, after the first flush of heady adventure wore off, a some- 
what disconcerting one. New questions had to be solved, new policies had to 
be formulated. What should we do in the Philippines, what should we do in 
Cuba, what should we do in Puerto Rico? 

In the Phillipine Islands, which we bought from Spain for $20,000,000, we 
were compelled to fight a bloody insurrection. The natives were led by Emilio 
Aguinaldo, who, with the encouragement of Admiral Dewey, had overrun the 
islands shortly after the Battle of Manila Bay and had declared the inde- 
pendence of the Philippines. When our policy became annexation rather than 
liberation, armed conflict with Aguinaldo's troops was inevitable. The fight- 
ing, much of it guerrilla warfare, dragged on for three years, with unspeakable 
cruelty on both sides. The American casualties exceeded the total of the entire 
Spanish-American War, and the Filipino losses were far greater, including 
hundreds of thousands of noncombatants who died from famine and disease 
as a result of the devastation of their farmlands. 

At home, thoughtful citizens were shocked by the picture of America in the 
role of the hated oppressor, and by the excesses of such generals as "Hell 
Roaring Jake" Smith, who was eventually court-martialed for telling his men 
to make the island of Samar "a howling wilderness" and to "kill everything 
over ten." Mark Twain said bitterly that the stars on the American flag 
should be replaced by the skull and crossbones, and Andrew Carnegie wrote 
to a friend in the administration: "You si~m to have about finished your work 
of civilizing the Filipinos; it is thought that about 8,000 of them have been 
civilized and sent to Heaven; I hope you like it." The Boston Transcript ex- 
pressed the sentiments of countless conscientious citizens with this verse: 

O Dcwey at Manila 

That fateful first of May 

When you sank the Spanish squadron 

In almost bloodless fray, 

And gave your name to deathless fame; 

O glorious Dewey, say, 

Why didn't you weigh anchor 

And softly sail away? 

The fighting came to a virtual standstill when on March 27, 1901, the Ameri- 


can General Frederick Funston captured Aguinaldo "by decoys, the forging of 
letters and other ruses, fit for kidnappers and bank crooks rather than soldiers 
of the United States." Roosevelt, at this time still governor of New York, 
firmly believing that the Filipinos would be better off under American rule, 
congratulated Funston warmly: "I take pride in this crowning exploit of 
a career filled with feats of cool courage, iron endurance and gallant daring." 

As though to atone for the suppression of the independence movement, 
America undertook the job of Filipino reconstruction with zeal and generally 
beneficial results. On July 4, 1901, civil administration was instituted with 
the kindly Judge William Howard Taft as governor. Native leaders were ap- 
pointed to important administrative posts. Modern sanitation brought about 
astonishing reductions in the mortality rate of Manila and other cities. Base- 
ball became a national pastime, extending even to remote tribal areas where 
the Moro chieftains insisted upon doing the batting and leaving the menial 
task of base-running to their servants. An enormous education program was 
launched. Nonetheless, our Philippine adventure had proved excessively costly 
in an economic as well as a moral sense. Between 1898 and 1902 our expendi- 
tures in the islands totaled more than $190,000,000. 

In Cuba our experience was considerably happier. When Congress, on the 
eve of the Spanish war, passed the resolution authorizing the use of American 
troops to liberate Cuba, it declared its intent to "leave the government and 
control of the island to its people." To the astonishment of cynical Europeans, 
we began taking steps toward that end as soon as hostilities ended. In the 
autumn of 1900, General Leonard Wood, the military commander of the 
island, arranged for a convention of nationalist leaders, and they proceeded to 
adopt a constitution modeled on our own. 

One thing marred this idealism, however. At the insistence of the McKinley 
administration and over vigorous objections from many Cuban nationalists 
and American anti-imperialists the new constitution was modified by the so- 
called Platt Amendment. The effect of the amendment was to give the United 
States a virtual veto power over Cuban relations with foreign powers and to 
authorize us to intervene in her national affairs when and if we felt it neces- 
sary for the preservation of stable government. 

The third major American acquisition resulting from the war with Spain 
was Puerto Rico. Military occupation of the island ended in 1900 with 
the passage of the Foraker Act, which provided for a House of Delegates 
elected by the people and a governor and executive council appointed by the 
American President. 

One of the thorniest of the many problems raised by the American acquisi- 
tions was the constitutional question. This the Supreme Court answered in the 
spring of 1901 when it handed down its decision in the so-called Insular 
Cases. The issue in point was whether the U. S. Constitution should "follow 
the flag," conferring on new subjects overseas the same rights and privileges 
accorded to American citizens. The Court, amid a confusing welter of concur- 
ring and dissenting opinion, declared that as most Americans did not want to 
consider Puerto Ricans and Filipinos as constitutional equals, it was for the 


President and Congress to run American colonies whichever way they desired. 
As Mr. Dooley summed it up: "No matter whether the constitution follows 
th' flag or not, th' Supreme Court follows th' illiction returns." 

The lands taken from Spain were not the only overseas acquisitions to re- 
ceive extensive attention. The Hawaiian Islands, their importance as a naval 
base greatly increased by our purchase of the Philippines, were annexed in 
1898 and received full territorial status two years later. And Alaska, which 
had been popularly regarded as little more than a vast wasteland since 
its purchase from the Russians in 1867 for half a cent an acre, suddenly 
leaped into the headlines with the discovery of gold in the Klondike River area 
in 1897. The following year, a gold fever swept across the nation, and thousands 
of Americans joined the stampede to the frozen North, most of them poorly 
equipped for the rigors of an Alaskan winter. The 20,000 prospectors brought 
back picturesque tales for the newspapers but not a great deal of wealth 
though there were colorful exceptions like the much-publicized "Sweetwater 
Bill" Gates, who presented his sweetheart with her weight in gold upon his 
return to San Francisco. 

America was expanding, America was flexing its muscles. 

With the acquisition of the Philippine Islands the United States had be- 
come a Far Eastern power with, inevitably, a new and vital interest in 
the fate of China, which appeared on the point of being gobbled up by Japan 
and the major European powers. The American Secretary of State at the time 
was John Hay, a remarkably able and scholarly statesman who had gone 
from an Illinois law practice to become a secretary to Abraham Lincoln and 
had subsequently made a high reputation as a writer, historian, and diplomat. 
In the face of the competing claims of the great powers in China, Hay and 
the British Foreign Office joined forces in enunciating what came to be known 
as the Open Door policy, under which the powers grudingly agreed to respect 
each other's rights in China. Soon afterward, a Chinese secret society called 
the Boxers massacred some 300 Occidentals near Peking in an effort to drive 
the "foreign devils" out of their country. The United States joined in a suc- 
cessful punitive expedition against the Boxers, but when in July of 1900 the 
episode threatened to provide Germany, Russia, and Japan with an excuse for 
the total dismemberment of the weak Chinese nation, Hay sent a circular note 
to the major powers amplifying the Open Door policy and guaranteeing in 
the name of the United States and Great Britain the political integrity of 

In a sense, the Open Door was symbolic of the American attitude toward 
overseas expansion. It expressed our new status as a world power, but at the 
same time it showed our distaste for joining the rest of the powers in the 
scramble for additional colonies. Our expansionist fever, which began in 1898, 
was waning fast by 1900. Americans had no desire to take on further respon- 
sibilities beyond their borders; they had no desire to grow into a colonial and 
imperialist nation. 


forces on March 31, 1899. The revolutionary Phil- 
ippine government fled northward; their House of 
Congress was set on fire by American soldiers. 


After the overthrow of Spanish rule, the Philippines 
hoped the United States would grant them inde- 
pendence. But when American policy became an- 
nexation rather than liberation, armed conflict with 
the native troops became inevitable. From February 
1899 until March 1901, when the rebel leader, 
Emilio Aguinaldo, was captured, the war in the 
Philippines went on, with casualties far larger than in 
the entire Spanish-American War. Back at home 


after the battle of Malolos. 

A FILIPINO PRISONER is interrogated by our 
soldiers. It was a cruel war, with unspeakable 
atrocities on both sides. Many Filipinos helped the 
insurgents against the American "conquerors." 

bipartisan anti-imperialist leagues protested against 
"prosecuting a ruthless war in a savage manner on 
a helpless race." 

Roosevelt, concerned about such attacks, wrote to 
Senator Hoar: "I am encouraging in every way the 
growth of the conditions which now make for self- 
government in the Philippines and which, if the 
Filipino people can take advantage of them, will 
assuredly put them where some day we shall say 
that if they desire independence they shall have it." 


in battle position in Pasig. 


When President McKinley had chosen William 
Howard Taft to govern the Philippines, Taft was 
hesitant to accept the honor. He had a distinguished 
legal career, which took him from Superior Court 
Justice of Ohio to Judge on the Circuit Court. He 
liked being a Circuit Court Judge and had no desire 
to change. But once he became the governor of the 
Philippines, he won the respect and admiration of 
the people he governed, and he encompassed real 
compassion and sympathy for them. 

Taft's administration improved the Philippine 
economy, instituted a limited self-government for 
the islands, established an educational program. His 
sanitary measures cut down the mortality rate; the 
building of roads and harbors made life easier for 
the "little brown brothers." 

But his greatest success was the settling with the 
Vatican the land ownership of the Dominican and 
Franciscan friars, a major grievance of the Filipinos. 
These clerics, who under Spain's dominion largely 

ruled the country, were hated by the natives. When 
Aguinaldo's revolutionary government came into 
being, their lands were confiscated. Many of the 
friars, fearing retribution, fled, and Taft agreed with 
the wish of the population that they should not re- 
turn. The question was how to compensate the Vati- 
can for their holdings. To bring an end to the issue, 
Taft traveled to Rome in 1902; and after protracted 
negotiations he signed an agreement whereby the 
United States was to pay $7,239,000 for 410,000 
acres of land formerly owned by the friars. This land 
was then sold to the Filipinos at a fair price and 
"with easy payments for a number of years." 

Thus when President Roosevelt recalled Taft in 
late 1904 to make him his Secretary of War, his 
departure was accepted with genuine sorrow by the 
Filipinos. For the full month before his leaving, 
there were celebrations in his honor, the most spec- 
tacular among them a semi-Spanish-Venetian fiesta 
on the Pasig River, on which occasion Taft wel- 
comed his guests in the costume of a Venetian doge. 



at one of the elaborate farewell parties 
in the Philippines in December 1904. 


Roosevelt inherited this dispute with Great Britain 
from the McKinley administration. Canada after 
gold was discovered in the Klondike region in 1896 
claimed a valuable strip of land in southern Alaska. 
Roosevelt felt that it was a wholly "false claim" and 
that Canada had no more "right to the land in 
question than they have to Aroostook County, Maine, 
or than we have to New Brunswick." 

The English suggested arbitration, but Roosevelt 
would not hear of it, and the argument between the 
two countries dragged on for years. Roosevelt finally 
agreed that six "impartial jurists of repute" three 
from the United States and three from Great Britain 
and Canada should meet in London and determine 
the boundary lines; but he told the three "impartial" 
American jurists Henry Cabot Lodge, Elihu Root, 
and George Turner, "not to yield any territory 

And he threatened that if the commission could 
not agree on the boundary, the American Congress 
would be forced to "give me the authority to run the 
line as we claim it, by our own people, without any 
further regard to the attitude of England and 

On October 20, 1903, the tribunal handed down 
its decision the English Lord Chief Justice voting 
with the Americans upholding the American posi- 
tion. It was a signal victory for Roosevelt. 


THE ALASKA TRIBUNAL at its final session in 
the London Foreign Office. At the head table are the 
six commissioners: 1. Lord Alverstone, the English 
Lord Chief Justice; 2. Elihu Root, the American 
Secretary of War; 3. Senator Henry Cabot Lodge of 
Massachusetts; 4. Sir Louis Jette; 5. Allen B. Ayles- 
worth, of England; 6. George Turner, ex-Senator 
from the state of Washington. 



which precipitated the Aljbkan boundary controversy 


A cartoon by Charles R. Macauley in the Democratic New York World. With his right hand 
Roosevelt balances the globe, while his left is holding the big stick. To his friend George 
Otto Trevelyan the President unburdened himself: "I am trying to make tropical American 
peoples understand that on the one hand they must behave themselves reasonably well, and 
on the other I have not the slightest intention of doing anything that is not for their own good." 




Roosevelt, an apt phrase maker, was ever willing to use his phrases as 
weapons in his political battles. Through forceful diplomacy, and through his 
readiness to brandish the big stick when necessary, he soon redefined the 
Monroe Doctrine and showed the colonial powers of Europe that the Western 
Hemisphere was not a safe place to exercise any extraterritorial ambitions. 

Even as he assumed the Presidency, one major test of the Monroe Doctrine 
was shaping up in South America. Through a revolution in 1899 Venezuela 
had fallen into the hands of Cipriano Castro, who in Roosevelt's terminology 
became "an unspeakably villainous little monkey." Under Castro's dictator- 
ship the state fell far behind in meeting her financial obligations to the citizens 
of other nations, and in July of 1901 Germany asked Venezuela to submit the 
matter to arbitration at the Hague Tribunal for International Disputes. After 
this was declined, and after the protracted negotiations yielded nothing, 
Germany and England decided on stronger measures. On December 13, 1902, 
they blockaded five Venezuelan ports, captured several gunboats, and sub- 
mitted the town of Puerto Cabello to a British bombardment. In the face of 
these actions, Castro agreed to arbitration a step strongly endorsed by the 
United States and the claims were adjudicated without further military 

This, at least, is one version of the affair. Thirteen years later, in 1915, 
Roosevelt put it in a very different light by contending that Germany, 
not Venezuela, had refused to submit to arbitration, and that Germany 
backed down and agreed to go to the Hague only when he, Roosevelt, 
informed the German Ambassador that the American fleet would be sent to 
prevent any occupation of Venezuelan territory. This version, which assumes 
Germany's motive to have been seizure of new territory in South Amer- 
ica, was publicized by Roosevelt during World War I, when his feelings 
against Germany were exceedingly intense. 

The Venezuelan affair illustrated a problem that imposed continual strains 
on the Monroe Doctrine. Unstable Latin-American regimes, often in the 
hands of revolutionary parties, were prone to disregard debts or damages 
owed to foreigners, and this in turn provided European powers with an easy 
excuse for interfering in their internal affairs. In December of 1901, at the out- 
set of the Venezuelan controversy, Roosevelt sought to keep this problem 
within bounds by declaring in a message to Congress that the coercion of a 
Latin-American state did not violate the Monroe Doctrine provided the 
coercion did not "take the form of the acquisition of territory by any non- 


American power." Or, as he had put it some six months earlier in a private 
letter: "If any South American country misbehaves toward any European 
country, let the European country spank it." The one reservation was that the 
"spanking" could not include occupation. 

In the wake of the Venezuelan controversy, however, Roosevelt decided 
that this was not enough. By 1904 he had come to feel that if and when the 
Latin-American countries needed spanking, the United States rather than 
European powers should do it. This concept came to be known as the "Roose- 
velt Corollary" to the Monroe Doctrine, and the President described it in 
these words: "Brutal wrong-doing, or an impotence which results in a general 
loosening of the ties of civilized society, may in America, as elsewhere, ulti- 
mately require intervention by some civilized nation, and in the Western 
Hemisphere the adherence of the United States to the Monroe Doctrine may 
force the United States, however reluctantly, in flagrant cases of such wrong- 
doing or impotence, to the exercise of an international police power." 

Though such pronouncement drew sharp criticism from the anti-imperialists 
at home and was denounced throughout Latin America as an attempt of 
American imperialistic expansion, to the President it seemed elementary com- 
mon sense. "If we are willing to let Germany or England act as the policeman 
of the Caribbean," he wrote to Elihu Root, "then we can afford not to inter- 
fere when gross wrong-doing occurs. But if we intend to say 'Hands off' to the 
powers of Europe, sooner or later we must keep order ourselves." Someone, he 
reasoned, had to play the role of stern father toward the weak and unstable 
nations of the hemisphere. Far better that the role should be played by the 
United States, which had no territorial ambitions in South America, than by 
the land-hungry European nations. 

Shortly after enunciating this expansion of the Monroe Doctrine, Roosevelt 
proceeded to apply it to the "black Republic" of Santo Domingo, where 
political disorder and mismanagement were chronic. "There was always fight- 
ing, always plundering," Roosevelt wrote, "and the successful graspers for 
governmental powers were always pawning ports and custom-houses, or try- 
ing to put them up as guarantees for loans. ... So utter was the disorder that 
on one occasion when Admiral Dewey landed to pay a call of ceremony on 
the president, he and his party were shot at by revolutionists in crossing the 
square, and had to return to the ships, leaving the call unpaid." By the close 
of 1904 Santo Domingo's habit of defaulting on debts to foreign creditors had 
raised the threat of punitive action by various European powers, and the re- 
public appealed to the United States for help. 

Roosevelt's reply was to arrange in February of 1905 a protocol under 
which the United States took charge of the Dominican customhouses, turning 
over 45 per cent of the customs receipts to Santo Domingo and putting the re- 
mainder in a sinking fund in New York for the benefit of foreign creditors. Al- 
though the President insisted that he was merely trying to forestall European 
intervention and that he had no desire to annex Santo Domingo, the Senate 
declined to ratify the protocol. Roosevelt disregarded the Senate's wishes, and 
for the next twenty-eight months he carried out his plan by an executive 


agreement. As a financial arrangement the protocol worked admirably; 
customs receipts more than doubled under American management, and 
European claims were settled within a few years. As a diplomatic arrange- 
ment it headed off a threat of European intervention, but committed us to a 
policy of continual involvement in the internal affairs of Central American 
and Caribbean states. 

"I felt," so Roosevelt wrote to John Hay on April 2, 1905, "that much less 
trouble would come from action; but beyond doubt we shall have flurries in 
connection with revolutionary uprisings and filibustering enterprises, as we 
assume the protection of the custom-houses." 

Although Roosevelt was generally an eager champion of arbitration in dis- 
putes between other nations, he tended to be considerably less eager when the 
United States was a party to the dispute. This was demonstrated by the con- 
troversy involving the boundary between Alaska and British Columbia, which 
achieved importance after the discovery of gold in the Klondike. Throughout 
the year of 1 902 Roosevelt maintained his contention that the claims were "an 
outrage, pure and simple," and that there was no justification for the Anglo- 
Canadian request for arbitration. To the Englishman Arthur H. Lee's ques- 
tion why America should not arbitrate, Roosevelt replied that "there are 
cases where a nation has no business to arbitrate. If we suddenly claimed a 
part of Nova Scotia you would not arbitrate." 

In January 1903, however, he reluctantly consented to a treaty calling for 
appointment of six "impartial jurists of repute" to fix the boundary line, with 
three of the jurists to represent England and Canada and three to represent 
the United States. To the consternation of the British and Canadians, Roose- 
velt appointed as the American "impartial jurists of repute" Secretary of War 
Root, ex-Senator George Turner of Washington, and the anti-Anglophile 
Senator Lodge. In the end (and over the objections of the two Canadian com- 
missioners, who declined to sign the document), and with the English Lord 
Chief Justice voting with the Americans, the boundary line was drawn sub- 
stantially on Roosevelt's terms. Years later the President wrote to Admiral 
Mahan that "the settlement of the Alaskan boundary settled the last serious 
trouble between the British Empire and ourselves. ..." 

The "big stick" approach to diplomav-y was the object of much criticism, 
and some aspects of it most notably the "Roosevelt Corollary" to the Mon- 
roe Doctrine were eventually repudiated by subsequent administrations. 
But it is important to remember that his assumption of the role of hemispheric 
police chief was not a manifestation of commercial imperialism in the European 
sense. If the business interests of America abroad benefited from his diplomacy, 
that was incidental. In foreign policy, as in domestic, he tended to view prob- 
lems in highly moral terms, and in most cases he managed to find a clear-cut 
"right" and "wrong" to justify his position. Roosevelt regarded the big stick as 
the righteous billy-club of a policeman whose duty was to enforce law 
and order in an essentially wicked world. 





At the opening of the century Venezuela's financial 
affairs were in a dismal state. Large debts for public 
work were accumulated; and when the foreign cred- 


itors were unable to collect their bills, their govern- 
ments assumed them. Great Britain, Germany, and 
Italy pressed Venezuela for payment, but received 
only promises. In July 1901 Germany proposed arbi- 
tration of the issue before the Hague Tribunal. 
Venezuela refused. For more than a year the negoti- 
ations continued. On December 7, 1902, Venezuela 
was handed a last ultimatum; on December 13, Ger- 
man and English warships were in Venezuelan waters, 
bombarding the fort of Puerto Gabello. This made 
Venezuela ask for arbitration; on December 16 both 
Great Britain and Germany accepted the offer and 
the controversy was resolved. 

Roosevelt's part in the affair was that of an inter- 
mediary. He said: "If any South American State 
misbehaves toward any European country, let the 
European country spank it; but I do not wish the 
United States or any other country to get additional 
territory in South America." But when at one point 
he felt that Germany hesitated to accept arbitration, 
he threatened the German Ambassador in Wash- 
ington with sending the American fleet to Venezuela, 
making it certain that Germany would not attempt the 
seizure of any territory in the Western Hemisphere. 




In 1903 the Republic of Santo Domingo was not able 
to meet her financial obligations. Payments to foreign 
creditors were stopped. As President Roosevelt had 
no desire to see a repetition of the Venezuelan affair, 
he suggested to the Dominican government that the 
United States be entrusted with the charge of custom 
receipts, from which Santo Domingo's creditors 
would then be paid. 

Though the American Senate refused to sanction 
such an arrangement, Roosevelt carried it out under 
an executive agreement. For twenty-eight months 
the United States supervised Santo D'omingo's cus- 
tom receipts, paid the creditors, and stabilized that 
country's finances. When Roosevelt was accused of 
setting a precedent for imperialistic ventures, he said: 
"I want to do nothing but what a policeman has to 
do in Santo Domingo. As for annexing the island, I 
have about the same desire to annex it as a gorged 
boa constrictor might have to swallow a porcupine 

It was the Santo Domingo affair which brought 
forth in 1904 Roosevelt's corollary to the Monroe 
Doctrine: "Brutal wrong doing, or an impotence 

which results in a general loosening of the ties of 
civilized society, may finally require intervention by 
some civilized nation, and in the Western Hemisphere 
the United States cannot ignore this duty." 



"GO AWAY, LITTLE MAN, AND DON'T BOTHER ME," says the caption of this 
Charles Green Bush cartoon in the New York World. The gun is being pointed at the tiny 
figure of Colombia, for whom Roosevelt had little use. "To talk of Colombia as a responsible 
Power to be dealt with as we would deal with Holland or Belgium or Switzerland or Den- 
mark is a mere absurdity," wrote Roosevelt some years after the event to William R. Thayer, 
the biographer of John Hay. "The analogy is with a group of Sicilian or Calabrian bandits; 
with Villa and Carranza at this moment. You could no more make an agreement with the 
Colombian rulers than you could nail currant jelly to a wall and the failure to nail currant 
jelly to a wall is not due to the nail; it is due to the currant jelly. I did my best to get them 
to act straight. Then I determined that I would do what ought to be done without regard 
to them. The people of Panama were a unit in desiring the Canal and in wishing to over- 
throw the rule of Colombia. If they had not revolted, I should have recommended Congress 
to take possession of the Isthmus " Roosevelt was outraged that Colombia opposed him. 




The dream of an Isthmian canal to link the Atlantic and Pacific oceans at 
Central America had fired people's imaginations for centuries. In 1850 the 
United States and Great Britain had agreed in the Clayton-Bulwer Treaty that 
any such undertaking would be a joint operation. Twenty-six years later, in 
1876, a French stock company bought from Colombia a concession to build a 
canal across the province of Panama, and the operation was put under the 
direction of Ferdinand DeLesseps, the hero of Suez. But by 1888, after spend- 
ing more than a quarter of a billion dollars, the company declared bankruptcy. 

The United States had become increasingly apprehensive that an Isthmian 
canal so near to its borders should be built under foreign auspices. Thus, after pro- 
tracted negotiations with Great Britain, a treaty was concluded (the Hay-Paun- 
cefote Treaty of 1901) by which Great Britain relinquished her rights leaving the 
construction, operation, and fortification of any Isthmian canal to the United 

From the outset most experts in America favored the building of a canal 
across Nicaragua rather than along the ill-fated route in Colombia. But when, 
in 1894, the bankrupt Universal Inter-Oceanic Canal Company was reorgan- 
ized as the New Panama Canal Company (with the sole purpose of selling its 
concession from the Colombian government to the United States), the propa- 
ganda for a Colombian canal caused a reversal in the thinking of the people. 
The canal company hired William N. Cromwell, a New York attorney, as its 
lobbyist (an assignment for which he later collected a fee of $800,000), and 
his behind-the-scenes work was so success r ul that in the Republican platform 
of 1900 the words "an Isthmian canal" were substituted for the "Nicaragua 
canal." The $60,000 campaign contribution given by Cromwell to the Repub- 
licans from the canal company's fund probably helped to effect the change. 

Still, the battle for the Colombian route was not yet won. The obstacle to it 
was that ancient obstacle of mankind money. For a while it looked as though 
the New Panama Canal Company would be worsted by its own greed. In 
response to inquiries from President McKinley's Isthmian Canal Commission 
in 1901, it set the price of its rights at $109,141,000, whereupon the commis- 
sion, contending that $40,000,000 was as much as the rights were worth, rec- 
ommended the use of the Nicaraguan route. At this point the flamboyant 
French engineer Philippe Bunau-Varilla, working with Cromwell for the 
Colombian route, persuaded the directors of the canal company to cut their 
price to the suggested $40,000,000. With the lower price, many who had orig- 


inally favored Nicaragua were now for a canal through Colombia. President 
Roosevelt was one of them. 

Those who pressed for the Nicaraguan route suffered a severe disappointment 
when in May 1902 the volcano Mount Montombo in Nicaragua erupted, a 
sign from Heaven against that state. Bunau-Varilla hurriedly called on all 
the stamp dealers in Washington and, within a matter of hours, had presented 
each member of the Senate with a Nicaraguan stamp showing a volcano 
"belching forth in magnificent eruption," a bad place to build a canal. Presently 
Congress passed the Spooner Act, authorizing the purchase of the Panama 
Company's concession for $40,000,000 provided Colombia would cede to the 
United States a strip of land across the Isthmus of Panama. 

By January 22, 1903, Colombia's charg6 d'affaires in Washington was ready 
to sign what came to be known as the Hay-Herran Treaty, granting the United 
States a 100-year lease on a six-mile-wide strip of land across the Isthmus of 
Panama. For this favor Colombia was to receive $10,000,000 besides annual 
payments of $250,000. But when the treaty reached the Colombian Congress, 
that body rejected it by a unanimous vote. 

This refusal threw Roosevelt into a more than usual rage. Even before the 
rejection of the American offer he had remarked that "those contemptible little 
creatures in Bogota ought to understand how much they are jeopardizing things 
and imperiling their own future." And when Colombia refused to ratify the 
treaty the President told his Secretary of State that "we may have to give a 
lesson to those jack rabbits." Roosevelt believed that the United States was 
not only morally but legally justified in "interfering summarily and saying that 
the canal is to be built and that they must not stop it," even if such a feat could 
be brought about only through a revolution. 

As it turned out there was no need for Roosevelt to indulge in any open "insti- 
gation of a revolt." An uprising was already under way, stirred up by Bunau- 
Varilla and Cromwell, secure in the knowledge that Washington would welcome 
it. By mid- October Roosevelt was given the word that a revolt in Colombia 
was forthcoming. However, even if it failed, "we should at once occupy the 
Isthmus anyhow, and proceed to dig the canal." 

Room 1162 of the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in New York City became "the 
cradle of the Panama Republic." There Bunau-Varilla set up his headquar- 
ters, there he drew up a declaration of independence and a Panamanian con- 
stitution, there the "agile and discreet fingers" of his wife stitched the future 
flag of liberation. There, also, on October 14, came Dr. Manuel Amador, 
company physician of the Panama Railroad and Steamship Company, soon 
to be President of the new republic. Bunau-Varilla told Amador that $100,000 
would be provided to underwrite the revolt, which was to take place on 
November 3. The exact date was set after the volatile Frenchman had learned 
from Secretary of State Hay that the Navy had ordered several ships of the 
Pacific fleet to proceed to Colombian waters. Later the date of the rebellion 
had to be postponed by twenty-four hours to allow time for the U.S.S. Nashville 
to reach the Atlantic side of the Isthmus. 

All the preparations were carefully mapped out. General Huertas, head of 


the Colombian Army detachment in Panama City, was to be the rebel com- 
mander in chief, and his soldiers would receive $50 apiece for joining him. To 
supplement the bribed Huertas soldiers a revolutionary "army" made up of 
300 railway section workers and the 287-man fire brigade of Panama City was 
pressed into action. The American naval commanders were instructed to pre- 
vent the landing of troops within 50 miles of Panama. And when regardless 
of all precautions 500 Colombian troops landed at Bogota, they were quickly 
bribed and prevailed upon to sail away instead of marching into Panama City. 

Everything went according to plan; within hours the rebels were successful. 
On November 4 the troops of General Huertas were paid their $50 apiece in 
gold by Dr. Amador, who told them: "The world is astonished by your hero- 
ism! . . . Long live the Republic of Panama! Long live President Roosevelt!" 
There was no bloodshed. The only casualties were a Chinaman and his dog, 
killed by a shell fired from a Colombian gunboat. 

With Panama's independence proclaimed by the revolutionists, Roosevelt 
and his Secretary of State worked with remarkable speed. One hour and fif- 
teen minutes after the White House had received word that independence had 
been achieved, the American Consul in Panama City was instructed to extend 
de facto recognition to the new regime. Bunau-Varilla, who had remained in 
the United States, installed himself as Panamanian Minister to Washington. 
By November 1 7 he had concluded a treaty with the American Secretary of 
State, setting up the canal zone and conferring on the Republic of Panama 
the $10,000,000 down payment that had originally been offered to Colombia. 
And, of course, the stockholders of the New Panama Canal Company were to 
receive the $40,000,000 guaranteed by the Spooner Act. 

Americans in general, intrigued by the prospect of an Isthmian canal, had 
no inclination to examine with critical eye the means that were used to achieve 
it, though there was a large and vocal minority which bitterly censured the Pres- 
ident for what seemed an immoral land grab at the expense of a weaker nation. 
To these critics Roosevelt replied sharply that the Colombian political leaders 
were "inefficient bandits," and he claimed that, far from inciting the revolu- 
tionists, he had "simply ceased to stamp out the different revolutionary fuses 
that were already burning." 

Eight years later, in a candid speech at the University of California, Roose- 
velt confessed: "If I had followed conventional, conservative methods, I should 
have submitted a dignified state paper of approximately two hundred pages 
to the Congress and the debate would have been going on yet, but I took the 
canal zone and let Congress debate, and while the debate goes on the canal 
does also." It was this statement that helped Colombia to wage a campaign 
for the payment of an indemnity from the United States. For years Roosevelt's 
friends in the Senate blocked the Wilson administration's effort to apologize 
to Colombia and to pay the indemnity. After Roosevelt was dead, the Harding 
government paid $25,000,000 to Colombia. As "conscience money" it was 
slight. The worth of the Panama Canal to the United States was many times 
that sum. 



It was in Colombia across the province of Panama, and it ended in disaster. The prime 
mover behind it was DeLesseps, the successful builder of the Suez Canal. From 1879 
till 1888 the work went on. That year, after more than a quarter of a billion dollars 
had been spent, the company went bankrupt, a victim of poor management, unlucky 
engineering, and the ravages of yellow fever. Machinery was abandoned to fill the ditches, and 
everything came to a halt. In 1894 the bankrupt company had been reorganized as the New 
Panama Canal Company, started to dig again, and hoped to sell its concession from the 
Colombian government to the United States for the asking price of $109,141,000. In June 
1901 the Spooner Act authorized the purchase of the Panama Company's concession for 
$40,000,000, provided Colombia would cede to the United States a strip of land across the 
Isthmus of Panama. And if Colombia refused, the canal would be built through Nicaragua. 



"The people of the United States and the people of the Isthmus and the rest of mankind 
will all be the better because we dig the Panama Canal and keep order in the neighborhood," 
wrote Roosevelt to Cecil Spring-Rice in January 1904. Around the same time he told Sam- 
uel W. Small: 'To my mind this building of the canal through Panama will rank in kind, 
though not of course in degree, with the Louisiana Purchase and the acquisition of Texas. 
I can say with entire conscientiousness that if in order to get the treaty through and start 
building the canal it were necessary for me forthwith to retire definitely from politics, I 
should be only too glad to make the arrangement accordingly, for it is the amount done in 
office, and not length of time in office, that makes office worth having." Some years later, 
in 1911, in viewing the events in retrospect, Roosevelt declared: "I took the Isthmus, 
started the Canal, and then left Congress, not to debate the Canal, but to debate me." 



AN ANTI-IMPERIALIST CARTOON. The Colonel of the Rough Riders plants a seed- 
ling tree with fruits labeled Philippines, Panama, Porto Rico, Santo Domingo, Hawaii, 
Guam. About his imperialist beliefs Roosevelt wrote: "Nations that expand and nations that 
do not expand may both ultimately go down, but the one leaves heirs and a glorious memory, 
and the other leaves neither." And he argued that "every expansion of a great civilized 
power means a victory for law, order and righteousness. This has been the case in every 
instance of expansion during the present century, whether the expanding power were 
France or England, Russia or America. In every instance the expansion has been of benefit, 
not so much to the power nominally benefited, as to the whole world. In every instance 
the result proved that the expanding power was doing a duty to civilization far greater and 
more important than could have been done by any stationary power." 




The Presidency is an elective office, and Roosevelt was President only by 
accident. This troubled him. He desired to become President in his own right, 
he wanted to be sent to the White House by the mandate of the people. To 
attain his goal he laid careful plans, and he worked toward it with great diH- 
gence. Historically, the precedents were against him; no previous Vice Presi- 
dent who had come into the high office through the death of his predecessor 
had ever been nominated for the Presidency. Neither John Tyler nor Millard 
Fillmore, Andrew Johnson nor Chester A. Arthur were able to succeed them- 
selves. Roosevelt felt that these precedents were of a past era and that there 
were new rules which applied to him. 

He campaigned for his election in many different ways. He courted the 
newspaper correspondents, holding press conferences and establishing a special 
room in the White House for their use. He went before the people on extensive 
speaking tours, outlining his policies and political philosophy, and by his energy, 
his versatility, his informality, and his outspokenness won their admiration. 

He expected the support of the rank and file, but he was apprehensive about 
the business and financial leaders. During a speaking tour in 1903 he told a 
friend: "They've finished me. I have no machine, no faction, no money." He 
was prone to indulge in picturing his future in gloomy colors, even though at 
every stop of his tour tremendous crowds gathered around his platforms. In 
such a mood, the cheers meant nothing. "They came to see the President much 
as they would have come to see a circus," he remarked sadly. 

Roosevelt realized that he had to gain he support of big business and of Wall 
Street, that he must lure "the captains of industry" and the "malefactors of 
great wealth" into his fold. Thus, he began to make conciliatory gestures 
toward them, and he compromised whenever his conscience permitted it. On 
the tariff question, which he determined to be "a mere matter of expediency" 
rather than a moral issue, he kept silent so that neither the low-tariff supporters 
from the West nor the high-tariff priests of the East should be offended. He 
backed the Elkins Act, which forbade the granting of rebates to shippers, 
an essentially weak bill, drawn up with the aid and consent of the railroads 
themselves, who had no desire to reduce the excessive freight rates. One of his 
biggest political compromises came early in 1904, when by executive order he 
provided pensions for all veterans between the ages of 62 and 70, whether dis- 
abled or not, at an annual cost of some $5,000,000. Meanwhile, he included 


among his political appointments a number of men quite frankly chosen for 
their ability to enlist Roosevelt-pledged delegates to the nominating convention. 

As he worried about his prospects of becoming President in his own right, 
his concern turned upon the figure of Mark Hanna, the chairman of the 
Republican National Committee, the man who might block his way. It was 
true that various big business interests hoped to boom Hanna for the Presi- 
dency as a means of getting rid of Roosevelt, but Hanna realized Roosevelt's 
hold on the voters, and he knew that he could not challenge him without 
splitting the party in two. 

Nevertheless, Roosevelt watched Hanna's moves with suspicion, and when 
the opportunity presented itself he went after the Senator and in a masterful 
political stroke eliminated him as a rival for the nomination. A few months 
later Hanna died, giving Roosevelt the opportunity to select a new chairman 
of the Republican National Committee a post of great importance in view 
of the forthcoming presidential campaign. He chose his former private secre- 
tary, George B. Cortelyou, who a year earlier had left his staff to head the 
newly created Department of Commerce and Labor. Cortelyou's appointment 
actively opposed by Senator Platt and the Old Guard proved Roosevelt's 
domination over the Republican organization. It reflected his determination 
to have the chairmanship in the hands of a man who "will manage the canvass 
on a capable and absolutely clean basis," as "my canvass cannot be managed 
on any other lines either with propriety or with advantage. If I win this year 
it will be because the bulk of the people believe I am a straightforward, decent 
and efficient man. ..." 

Thus, when the Republicans assembled in Chicago for their convention, there 
was no other candidate before them but Roosevelt, and they nominated him 
by acclamation. The pervading dullness of the proceedings was relieved by an 
episode that dramatized the Roosevelt administration's forthright approach to 
diplomatic questions. In far-off Morocco the wealthy American citizen Ion 
Perdicaris had been kidnaped by the bandit chieftain Raisuli. The chief treated 
Perdicaris well, and when the dispute between him and the Sultan of Morocco 
(the reason for the kidnaping) had been resolved he was ready to release his 
captive. It was then that Secretary of State Hay, after consultation with Roose- 
velt, sent to the American Consul in Tangiers the peremptory message: "We 
want Perdicaris alive or Raisuli dead." The message, when it reached the 
Republican convention, created a jubilant uproar. "It was magnificent mag- 
nificent!" Senator Depew exclaimed in behalf of his fellow delegates. And 
Secretary Hay recorded in his diary: "My telegram to Gunmere had an 
uncalled-for success. It is curious how a concise impropriety hits the public." 

The platform of the Republicans, built to the President's specifications by 
Senator Lodge, pictured the party as the guardian of the Monroe Doctrine 
and the champion of economic prosperity. Its policies were not radical nor reac- 
tionary they were middle-of-the-road. 

The Democrats, meeting in St. Louis, were firmly under the control of the 
"Safe-and-Saners" the Eastern conservatives who had joined forces to pre- 
vent Bryan from seizing the nomination for a third time. Their platform 


accused Roosevelt of various unlawful and unconstitutional actions and spoke 
of his administration as "sporadic, erratic, sensational, spectacular and arbi- 
trary." For their presidential candidate they chose conservative Judge Alton B. 
Parker of New York, whom the Bryan faction termed as being "under the 
control of the Wall Street element." For the second place they nominated 
ex-Senator Henry G. Davis of West Virginia, a man of eighty-two and of 
considerable wealth. Republicans soon chided their opponents for nominating 
"an enigma from New York and a reminiscence from West Virginia." 

One of the reasons for Parker's nomination was the Democrats' hope that 
he would appeal to the normally Republican big businessmen who distrusted 
the erratic Roosevelt. Logically, such strategy should have worked; actually 
it did not. The conservative New York Sun, summing up Wall Street's attitude, 
printed a one-line editorial only five words. It said: "Theodore! with all thy 
faults ." Later the newspaper explained that it preferred "the impulsive can- 
didate of the party of conservatism to the conservative candidate of the party 
which the business interests regard as permanently and dangerously impulsive." 

As election day drew near Roosevelt grew alarmed. Every contest filled his 
heart with dark foreboding. This time he became apprehensive that the State 
of New York with its heavy electoral vote might turn Democratic. Obsessed 
with what Secretary Hay diagnosed as the traditional "October scare" com- 
mon to political candidates, the President made personal appeals to such 
capitalists as Edward H. Harriman, the railroad king, and steel man Henry C. 
Frick. Harriman hurriedly raised $250,000 for the Republican campaign chest. 
Eight years later, when a Senate committee analyzed the Republican receipts, 
it was found that nearly three fourths of the money (over two million dollars) 
was collected from big corporations and trusts. 

Cortelyou's collections from big business provoked the Democratic candidate 
to charge that the donors were being "blackmailed" by promises of political 
immunity. Roosevelt struck back with an indignant denial in which he de- 
scribed the charges as "monstrous" and concluded: "The assertion that there 
has been made any pledge or promise or that there has been any understanding 
as to future immunities or benefits in recognition of any contribution from any 
source is a wicked falsehood." 

The result of the election showed the t Roosevelt need not have been scared. 
The Democrats carried no states outside the Solid South, and even Missouri 
broke precedent by going Republican. The electoral margin was 336 to 140, 
while Roosevelt's popular majority of 2,540,067 was the largest in the history 
of presidential elections. The President, who voted at Oyster Bay and then 
returned to Washington to receive the election returns at the White House, 
was elated. In the flush of victory he told reporters: "Under no circumstances 
will I be a candidate for or accept another nomination," a statement which 
he was to regret later. 

To his son Kermit he wrote: "I am stunned by the overwhelming victory 
we have won. I had no conception such a thing was possible." And to his wife he 
summed up the cause of his deep satisfaction with the words: "I am no longer 
a political accident." 



"The Northern Securities suit is one of the great 
achievements of my administration," wrote Roosevelt 
to George Cortelyou, and he added, "for through it 
we emphasized in signal fashion, as in no other way 
could be emphasized, the fact that the most power- 
ful men in this country were held to accountability 
before the law." Roosevelt felt that "a moral stand- 
ard" must be set up for the very rich, who in "their 
greed and arrogance . . . and the corruption in busi- 

ness and politics have tended to produce a very un- 
healthy condition of excitement and irritation in the 
popular mind. ..." So he wrote in his letter to 
William Howard Taft on March 15, 1906. Roosevelt 
focused public attention on the wrongdoing of the 
trusts, instigating twenty-five suits against them, de- 
manding their dissolution, which led to indictments 
under the Sherman Act. And the American elector- 
ate approved the "trust-busting" President's vigorous 
fight against the large industrial combinations. 




April 29, 1903: 


Explaining his legislative program in Hannibal, Mo. 

Mart ,.fWHr 

ia *. 


it MOMMI? for HM to 

tte f*ots X MI ur you 

M A 

Roosevelt toured the West, attempting to secure 
his nomination in 1904, politicians intrigued behind 
the scenes. The man whom Roosevelt most feared 
was the Republican National Chairman, Senator 
Mark Hanna of Ohio. He had forebodings that 
Hanna, supported by conservative Republicans and 

Wall Street interests, might either become a candidate 
himself (which Hanna denied) or might block his 
nomination. When Joseph B. Foraker, the junior 
senator of Ohio, precipitated a showdown by suggest- 
ing that the Ohio State Convention endorse Roose- 
velt a year ahead of time, Hanna sent the above 
telegram to the President, who was then in Seattle. 

THE DRAFT OF ROOSEVELT'S ANSWER to the issue "has been raised, of course those who favor 
Senator Hanna. "I have not asked any man for his my administration and my nomination will favor 
support," the President told Hanna. But inasmuch as endorsing both and those who do not will oppose." 


Forced by his colleague, Senator Foraker, on one 
side and by President Roosevelt on the other, he ac- 
knowledged defeat. To the President's telegram he 
answered: "In view of the sentiment expressed I shall 
not oppose the endorsement of your administration 
and candidacy by our State Convention." 


In their Chicago convention the 
Republicans nominated Theodore 
Roosevelt for the Presidency and 
Charles W. Fairbanks of Indiana 
for the second place. 

They were opposed by Alton 
B. Parker and Henry G. Davis, 
the choice of the Democrats. 
Parker, presiding judge of the 
New York Court of Appeals, was 
a conservative, "safe and sane" 
candidate, while the 81 -year-old 
Davis of West Virginia was 
nothing more than an extremely 
wealthy man. Still, the opposi- 
tion could not beat the "unsafe" 
Roosevelt with the "safe" Parker. 
Outside the Solid South the Dem- 
ocrats did not carry a single state. 

Roosevelt was elated. He had showed "that the 
time had come to stop shilly shallying" and he had 
let the Republican Chairman know "that I did not 
intend to assume the position, at least passively, of a 
supplicant to whom he might give the nomination 
as a boon." And he confessed to intimates that the 
affair gave him "a new and vivid interest in life." 


PUTTING THE SCREWS ON! A cartoon by Joseph Kcppler in Puck shows George B. 
Cortelyou, the Republican National Chairman, squeezing money out of the trusts. When 
later an investigation was held, it came to light that 72 per cent of the $2,195,000 which 
Cortelvou collected for the Republican campaign fund came from large corporations. The 
directors of Standard Oil contributed $100,000; E. H. Harriman donated $50,000 and 
collected $200,000 more. J. P. Morgan gave $150,000; George J. Gould, $100,000; Henry 
C. Frick, $50,000. Joseph Pulitzer's New York World wondered publicly whether the reason 
for the big businessmen's contributions was the hope of buying protection. The newspaper 
wanted to know how much money the beef, the paper, the coal, the sugar, and other trusts 
contributed. But Roosevelt and Cortelyou remained silent; they would not answer the World. 




NO THIRD TERM! Dalrymple's cartoon in Judge 
refers to Roosevelt's statement which he issued on 
election night: "On the 4th of March next I shall 
have served three and a half years and this three and 
a half years constitutes my first term. The wise 
custom which limits the President to two terms 
regards the substance and not the form. Under no 
circumstances will I be a candidate for or accept 
another nomination." Years later he told a friend: 
"I would cut my hand off right there," indicating 
his wrist, "if I could recall that written statement." 



Inauguration day was a jubilant one for Roosevelt. 
The night before, he said to a friend: "Tomorrow I 
shall come into my office in my own right. Then 
watch out for me!" John Hay, once Lincoln's secre- 
tary, presented him with a ring which supposedly 
contained some of Lincoln's hair, cut from his head 
after the assassination, and the deeply touched 
Roosevelt wore it when he took the oath. 

Riding down Pennsylvania Avenue, the bands 
played "There'll Be A Hot Time in the Old Town 



Tonight"; thirty members of his old regiment as his 
special guard of honor were galloping next to his 
carriage. "And there was every variety of civic 
organization," he described the event to George Otto 
Trevelyan in England, "including a delegation of 
coal miners with a banner recalling that I had settled 
the anthracite coal strike; Porto Ricans and Philip- 
pine Scouts; old-style Indians, in their war paint and 
with horses painted green and blue and red and 
yellow, with their war bonnets of eagles' feathers 

and their spears and tomahawks, followed by the 
new Indians, the students of Hampton and Carlisle; 
sixty or seventy cowboys; farmers clubs; mechanics 
clubs everybody and everything. Many of my old 
friends with whom I had lived on the ranches and 
worked in the roundups in the early days came on 
to see me inaugurated." 

And to his father's brother he wrote: "How I wish 
Father could have lived to see it too! You stood 
to me for him and for all that generation . . ." 




At the time Theodore Roosevelt was elected to the Vice Presidency the 
year was 1900 the Literary Digest editorialized: "The ordinary 'horseless car- 
riage' is at present a luxury for the wealthy; and altho its price will probably 
fall in the future, it will never, of course, come into as common use as the 
bicycle." Five years later the year was 1905 when Roosevelt took the oath as 
President in his own right, this prophecy seemed already absurd. Some 78,000 
automobiles were in use across the nation; quantity production methods were 
already bringing the "rich man's toy" within reach of families of modest income. 

These, too, were the years in which man's timeless dream of learning to fly- 
lea pt toward incredible fruition. In 1903 the whole world had skeptically 
watched as a distinguished American scientist, Professor Samuel P. Langley, 
attempted to launch from atop a houseboat near Widewater, Virginia, a flying 
machine built with a War Department subsidy. The plane plunged into the 
sea "like a handful of mortar," fulfilling, as one newspaper put it, the "fondest 
expectations of its critics." Humorists had a field day; they suggested that the 
vehicle should have been hitched to the price of beef, that it might have flown 
had it been launched upside down. "Here is $100,000 of the people's money 
wasted on this scientific navigation experiment," snorted Congressman Robin- 
son of Indiana, "because some man, perchance a professor wandering in his 
dreams, was able to impress the officers that his scheme had some utility." 

Yet just nine days after Langley's final fiasco, while the world was still 
laughing, two persistent and mechanically inclined brothers did what the public 
knew couldn't be done. On December 17, 1903, on the windswept sand dunes 
of Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, Wilbur and Orville Wright put a flying ma- 
chine aloft for 12 seconds. The initial flignt covered only 120 feet; for the first 
time a machine carrying a man had flown by its own power. 

Almost simultaneously with the birth of the air age came a development that 
was to rival the automobile in its revolutionary effect on American manners 
and mores. Before the turn of the century Thomas A. Edison's moving-picture 
device, the kinetoscope, had been installed in box-like slot machines for the 
amusement of customers in penny arcades. By 1900 the pictures were being 
projected on open screens in theaters where they served as "chasers" between 
vaudeville acts. Three years later the real possibilities of motion pictures were 
recognized when Edwin S. Porter, Edison's cameraman, produced the melo- 
drama The Great Train Robbery. Improvised five-cent theaters known as "nick- 
elodeons" sprang up all over the country, and by the end of the decade movies 
were well on their way to becoming an established form of entertainment. 

MARCH 4, 1905: 423 

President in his own right. 

The legitimate stage prospered as never before. Maude Adams, Ethel Barry- 
more, Julia Marlowe, Ada Rehan, Richard Mansfield, William Gillette, John 
Drew, E. H. Sothern played before full houses. On the musical stage the big- 
gest name was Victor Herbert, whose initial success had come with Babes in 
Toyland in 1903, while Florenz Ziegfeld was preparing to put musical comedy 
on a new basis with the first of his Ziegfeld Follies, produced in 1907. In opera 
the year 1905 marked the debut of a native American soprano, Geraldine 
Farrar, and a wave of excitement over the talents of a young Italian tenor, 
Enrico Caruso, who had completed his first American tour and whose voice 
would soon be projected through Edison's new-fangled "gramophone" to 
countless Americans who never saw him in the flesh. 

One reason for the growth of the entertainment industry was the fact that 
the average American of 1905 had more leisure time than his forebears of a 
generation, or even a decade, earlier. The six-day week was being modified 
by a half-holiday on Saturday; and while the ten-hour day was still common, 
the federal government had presaged its passing, specifying an eight-hour day 
for government contractors. Meanwhile, the new inventions in transportation 
greatly increased the public's opportunities for the enjoyment of leisure. For 
a few pennies, city dwellers could take the electric trolley cars to beaches and 
amusement parks on the outskirts of town. With the increased leisure, also, 
came an increased interest in sports, and particularly in "spectator sports." 
Organized baseball, a thriving industry before the turn of the century, was 
enhanced with the introduction of the World Series in 1903, and college foot- 
ball was already being deplored on the grounds of professionalism and over- 
emphasis. "Baseball and football matches," reported James Bryce in 1905, 
"excite an interest greater than any other public events except the Presidential 
election, and that comes only once in four years." 

Except for a few genteel diversions like lawn tennis and sidesaddle horseback 
riding, women were still excluded from most sports. In politics their influence 
was negligible. Though ex-President Cleveland said that "sensible and respon- 
sible women do not want to vote," the "weaker sex" had already obtained 
that right in Wyoming, Utah, Colorado, and Idaho. More significantly, women 
were becoming a vital factor in the work force. By the end of the decade more 
than eight million of them wefre employed. 

In their clothing there was little emancipation. In dry weather skirts were 
still expected to come within an inch or two of the ground. The bustle was 
rapidly going out of style (though a newspaper item of 1905 reported that a 
Minneapolis woman waiting for a train had "lost her bustle in which was five 
hundred dollars"). Boned collars were much in style, as were "peek-a-boo" 
waists. Hats were customarily enormous variations on the sailor hat, and hair 
was curled and puffed up with the aid of "rats" or rolls. In men's clothing dark 
blue serge was still the standard, and derby hats were reaching a peak of popu- 
larity. A few daring men were beginning to wear wrist watches, though this 
was generally frowned on as a sign of effeminacy. 

Despite the phenomenal growth of Chicago and other cities, New York 
remained the undisputed center of fashion and fashionable society. Along Fifth 


Avenue and on Riverside Drive the great barons of the new industrialism dis- 
played their wealth with proud vulgarity in palaces that dwarfed many of the 
city's public buildings. The Vanderbilt family's mansions occupied six blocks 
of frontage; Carnegie's establishment at the corner of 91st Street boasted fifty 
rooms and a miniature golf course; Charles Schwab's residence on Riverside 
Drive completed in 1905 contained seventy-five rooms, forty baths, and a 
refrigerator capable of holding twenty tons of beef; Henry C. Prick's mansion, 
that was to make Carnegie's "look like a miner's shack," was in construction 
when completed nearly a decade later, it had cost close to $17,000,000. 

Throughout the first decade of the century Mrs. William Astor remained 
the unquestioned empress of New York society. Her social prime minister, Ward 
McAllister (who once said that "a fortune of only a million is respectable 
poverty"), originated the term "Four Hundred" to describe the number of per- 
sons who could be comfortably accommodated in her ballroom; and for the 
better part of two decades the guest list for her lavishly dull annual ball was 
accepted as the Who's Who of New York society. Mrs. Astor's principal rival 
was Mrs. Stuyvesant Fish; her extravagant entertainments presided over by 
her social factotum, Harry Lehr, included a lavish "dog dinner" at which the 
dogs of Mrs. Fish's friends were invited to feast on pate defoie gras and similar 
delicacies. But even Lehr's talent for conspicuous waste was outdone when 
James Hazen Hyde, the insurance tycoon, staged at Sherry's a $100,000 cos- 
tume ball modeled in every detail on the court entertainments of Louis XIV. 

Such extravagance contrasted bitterly with the poverty of New York's hun- 
dreds of thousands of slum dwellers. The effort to provide decent housing for 
the city's working people had scarcely begun; the population density of more 
than one thousand persons per acre in lower Manhattan exceeded even the 
congestion of overpopulated cities of India. In many of the tenements most of 
the bedrooms were windowless, and bathtubs were a rarity. 

To these dark, foul-smelling, demoralizing slums flocked an ever-increasing 
flood of immigrants from abroad. In 1905, for the first time, the total number 
of immigrants exceeded one million, with Italy and eastern Europe as the 
principal sources. Many of the newcomers went to work in the sweatshops of 
New York; others were absorbed by the textile mills of New England, the steel 
mills of Pittsburgh, the stockyards of Chicago, and the bituminous coal fields 
of Pennsylvania. Illiterate and unfamiliar with the law, the immigrant was a 
natural target for unscrupulous employers and tradesmen. "Right off the boat" 
became a standard term for a gullible person; it was even reported that one 
designing New York taxi driver put an immigrant on the Third Avenue ele- 
vated, collected several hundred dollars from him, and told him the train 
would take him to Kansas City. 

It was the wide disparity between irresponsible wealth and grinding poverty 
that bred the progressive movement which began in the early 1890s and 
gathered its greatest force in the first decades of the twentieth century. 



Dana Gibson, the creator of the popular Gibson girls. 

sters have no eyes for the dead horse on the pavement. 

A MOVIE SET in New York's Vitagraph studio, 
where many of the early film-dramas were made. 


Compare this picture taken in 1905 with other 
Fifth Avenue pictures on pages 190, 276 and 299. 

TAKE A LETTER, MISS KINNEY. Women secretaries became the mode. They handled 
the newfangled devices the telephone, the typewriter and other office equipment better 
than their male counterpart. They were neat, too, in white aprons and starched blouses. 

LADIES PREFERRED dark veils to protect their 
delicate nostrils when playing a game of tennis. 


A page of photographic instruction 
in Leslie's Weekly. March 31, 1904. 

OPERATING TELEPHONES was another of the 
professions in which the fair sex was predominant. 




opening of the century only wealthy people bought automobiles, although the prices of the 
early vehicles were not prohibitive. Here John Jacob Astor drives one of his first cars. 


It was in 1896 that the machinist 
Henry Ford, in a shed behind his 
Detroit house, came up with a gas- 
oline-engine vehicle. Ford's dream 
was a universal car, to be sold 
cheaply and in quantities. In 1903 
he organized his own company. 

mont, one of the girls of the celebrated Floradora Sex- 
tet, in an air-cooled Franklin car of 1904. A Floradora 
girl in an automobile was an advertising man's dream. 



EXPERIMENTS IN FLYING. The brother* Wilbur and Orville Wright took up aeronau- 
tics as a pastime. Influenced by the German Otto Lilienthars experiments, they built gliders; 
in 1902 they were able to fly their machine for 26 seconds, covering a run of 622V2 feet. 

THE WRIGHT BROTHERS Orville and Wilbur 
in Europe, where in 1908 and 1909 they demon- 
strated their machine. In France and in Italy hun- 
dreds of thousands turned out to see their plane take 
to the air. European countries started to manufacture 
the Wrights' invention, but not until late 1910 did an 
American company begin to make aeroplanes, 
producing about two of the craft each month. 

THE BICYCLE SHOP in Dayton, Ohio, where the 
first motor-driven aeroplane was designed. The ma- 
chine was tested at Kitty Hawk, N.C., on December 
17, 1903. It flew! Orville wired his father: "Success 
four flights Thursday morning all against twenty-one 
mile wind. Started from level with engine power alone. 
Average speed through air thirty-one miles longest 
fifty-nine seconds. Inform press. Home Christmas/' 


A MEDICAL SCHOOL FOR WOMEN. On January 14, 1904, Leslie's Weekly published 
the above picture of the Woman's Medical College of Pennsylvania, calling it a "remark- 
able clinic, at which the patient, the operators, and the witnesses were all women." 


Brooklyn Daily Eagle at the time 
Roosevelt became President "in 
his own right." The press at this 
time was overwhelmingly and 
enthusiastically behind Roose- 
velt; only a few conservative 
newspapers, foremost among 
them the New York Sun, were 
against him. He was riding the 
crest of the wave; he was at the 
height of his popularity. News- 
papermen were his friends; they 
admired and they loved him be- 
cause he gave them colorful 
copy, he created news, he served 
them with spicy controversies, 
zestful excitement, and sheer fun. 



As motor cars multiplied, so did the jokes about them. It was easy to make fun of the helpless 
vehicles bogged down on impossible roads and no experienced mechanic in a hundred miles. 

AWE-INSPIRING was the sight 
of Roy Knabenshue's balloon. 
On June 30, 1906, the aviator 
made a successful ascent in his 
airship at Toledo. He started 
from the fairgrounds and flew 
three miles against a heavy wind, 
and after twenty-five minutes in 
the air he landed on the roof of 
a ten-story office building. 

Two weeks before, Knabenshue 
sailed around the dome of the 
Capitol at Washington. At that 
time so many senators and rep- 
resentatives left their desks to 
watch the spectacle that for an 
hour it was not possible to get 
a quorum in either assembly. 


ENRICO CARUSO (1873-1921) 

the Italian grand opera tenor from Naples, the eight- 
eenth son of his parents and the first who survived 
infancy, opened his first season at the Metropolitan 
Opera on November 21, 1903, singing in Rigolttto. 
The world of music immediately acclaimed him. 

MAUDE ADAMS (1872-1953) 

became the darling of theater audiences when she 
played Peter Pan in the fairy tale by James Barrie, 
which ran on Broadway from the fall of 1903 until 
the summer of 1 906. After that she appeared in Quality 
Street, What Every Woman Knows, and other Barrie plays. 

FLORADORA was one of the most successful musi- 
cals at the turn of the century. It starred six attractive, 
vivacious, and charming young ladies the Floradora 
Sextet who soon became the talk of the nation. It 
was opened in 1 901 , continued the following year, and 
before it closed had chalked up a record of 547 per- 
formances. After New York, the company played most 
of the big cities of America. At the tour's end in 1905 
the popular demand in New York was still so great 
that the musical was obliged to return to Broadway. 


ETHEL BARRYMORE (1879-1959) * 

the daughter of Maurice and Georgiana Drew Barry- 
more and the sister of John and Lionel, belonged to 
the celebrated "royal family" of actors. In 1905, 
around Roosevelt's inauguration, she appeared in 
Ibsen's A Doll's House. "Ibscene," wrote one critic. 

THE SEASON OF 1905 was studded with remark- 
able dramatic plays. Mrs. Fiske played with George 
Arliss of London (on the right) in Leah Kleschna. 
David Warfield drew packed houses with The Music 
Master, held over from the previous year. Forbes 
Robertson played Hamlet, "the only Hamlet of the 
modern world." Sarah Bernhardt played Magda, 
Sappho, Phedre, and La Dame aux Camelias. Bernard 
Shaw's Mrs. Warren's Profession was suppressed by the 
police after its first showing in New York on October 3 1 . 


LILLIAN RUSSELL (1861-1922) 

was the toast of Broadway when she played Lady 
Teazle in the musical version of Sheridan's The School 
for Scandal. On the stage since 1879, she thrilled 
audiences not only with her beauty and acting, but 
with the amorous adventures of her private life. 

SOCIETY. Members of the elegant Four Hundred have a friendly chat before the Casino 
of Newport, R.I., which was then one of the most fashionable summer resorts of the nation. 


Millionaire Alfred Gwynne Vander- 
bilt I was a coaching enthusiast. 
Once, in 1901, he and James Hazen 
Hyde raced their tallyhos from New 
York to Philadelphia. The race re- 
quired 78 horses; it took 9 hours 25 
minutes one way and 10 hours 10 
minutes for the other, with a six- 
minute "rest" between. Next to 
Vanderbilt is his first wife, Elsie 
French, who divorced him in 1908, 
receiving a settlement often million 
dollars. Behind him, in the center, 
is his sister Gladys, who later became 
the wife of the celebrated Hungarian 
diplomat Count Lszl6 Sz6chenyi. 

TENNIS ENTHUSIASTS. Alice Roosevelt, the leading light of American society, arrives 
with two of her friends at the Newport Casino to be a spectator at the seasonal matches. 


Railroad executive Edward Henry 
Harriman, like other prominent New 
Yorkers of wealth, enjoyed the sport 
of driving a four-in-hand. Coaching 
clubs, imitating their English count- 
erparts, became the order of the 
day. Madison Square and the near- 
by hostelries were the center of the 
coaching fraternity. From clubs and 
other approved stations the drags 
paraded up Fifth Avenue, entering 
Central Park at 59th Street. On the 
sidewalks crowds watched the pic- 
turesque prancing of the four horses, 
the immaculate drivers, and their 
beautifully dressed lady companions. 


BY THE SEA, by the sea, by the beautiful sea, 

You and I, you and I, oh! how happy we'll be! 

When each wave comes a-rolling in, 

We will duck or swim, and we 1 !! float and fool around the water . . .' 

THE SUMMERS WERE HOT, vacations were 
short. One worked six days a week on an average of 
ten hours a day. Families traveled little the cheap 
Ford was not yet available. An outing to Coney 
Island on the streetcars was an event long to be 
remembered. Mother cooked and packed a huge 
picnic lunch. And what a picnic it was! Even 
Father had to admit that Mother's cooking was best. 










RICH GIRLS. A society darling (on the left), the only one of the fabulous Cryder 
triplets still unmarried, poses for the photographer in a hansom at New York's Central Park. 


SPORT GIRLS. Georgiana Bishop (on the right) won the Women's Amateur Golf Cham- 
pionship in 1904 against Mrs. L. Callan, whose powerful swings were a wee bit short. 

WORKING GIRLS. A charming photograph of four stenographers enjoying their luncheon 
break in downtown New York. It was taken by the photographer Edwin Levick in 1903. 



NEW YORK'S LITERATI celebrated Mark Twain's seventieth birth- 
day at Delmonico's restaurant on December 5, 1905. The lady on the 
right is Emily Post. Around the table clockwise are James MacArthur, 
John A. Mitchell, May Sinclair, S. M. Gardenshire, Hamilton W. Mabie. 

center: Florence Morse Kingsley, Philip Verrill Mighels, Frederick Trevor 
Hill, Frances Powell Case, Edwin Markham, and Churchill Williams. On 
the right, before the window, Dorothy Canfield and William D. Orcutt. 



Clockwise from Mark Twain are Kate Douglas Riggs, 
Rev. Joseph H. Twichcll, Bliss Carman, Ruth Mc- 
Enery Stuart, Henry Mills Alden, Henry H. Rogers, 
and Mary E. Wilkins Freeman. 

Theodore Roosevelt was invited to attend the 
dinner, but he sent his regrets. Once he called Mark 
Twain a "prize idiot" (because of his stand on the 

China issue), another time "a man wholly without 
cultivation and without any real historical knowl- 
edge" (because of his book on King Arthur's Court). 
But now that the writer had reached the age of 
seventy, the President thought him "one of the citi- 
zens whom all Americans should delight to honor. 
. . . May he live long, and year by year may he add 
to the sum of admirable work that he has done." 


AND THE IMMIGRANTS POURED IN. The country offered opportunities and the 
promise of a good life. In the year 1905 the number of immigrants who came from Europe 
was 1,026,499, the majority Italians but a large number from Hungary, Slovakia, Poland, 
and Western Russia. The largest number of immigrants arriving at the shores of the New 
World was recorded in May, when in a single day 12,039 disembarked in New York Har- 
bor. America was growing with great speed; it needed men to work, it needed men to build. 




"In foreign affairs we must make up our minds that, whether we wish it or 
not, we are a great people and must play a great part in the world. It is not 
open to us to choose whether we will play that part or not. We have to play 
it. All we can decide is whether we shall play it well or ill." 

This expressed one of Roosevelt's deepest convictions. That he spoke thus 
in 1905 was appropriate, for it was in that year that he stepped into the role 
of global statesman. On two sides of the world he played the peacemaker 
between great powers: in the Far East, where he stage-managed the treaty that 
ended the Russo-Japanese War, and in North Africa, where he played a lead- 
ing part in de-fusing the Moroccan crisis and averting, at least temporarily, a 
military showdown between the colonial powers of Europe. 

In handling the foreign policy reins, Roosevelt was considerably aided by 
his close personal friendship with two foreign diplomats whose honesty and 
discretion he relied upon heavily. One was Count Speck von Sternburg, known 
affectionately as "Specky" to the Roosevelts since 1890, a bright young aristo- 
crat who had been made secretary of the German legation in Washington at 
the President's suggestion. The second was Cecil Spring- Rice, the "Springy" 
who was best man at Roosevelt's second marriage in England and who, as a 
British diplomat stationed at St. Petersburg, was now a trusted if roundabout 
middleman between the White House and No. 10 Downing Street. He also 
developed a close friendship with Jules Jusserand, the French Ambassador in 
Washington. These close relationships established the direct lines of communi- 
cation which the President needed for his personal style of diplomacy. 

The first challenge to his diplomatic skill came from the Far East, where 
the Russo-Japanese War had begun in February 1904. The roots of the war 
were many and tangled, but the major cause was a bitter commercial rivalry 
in North China and Manchuria. Czar Nicholas of Russia had been tacitly en- 
couraged in his truculent Far Eastern policies by Kaiser Wilhelm II of Ger- 
many, who tried to divert Russia from Germany's eastern frontier. 

At first, President Roosevelt was pleased with the succession of Japanese 
victories. He believed that Japan's growing strength in the Far East constituted 
a healthy counterweight to Russian power. And he had a low regard for Czar 
Nicholas, whom he thought "a preposterous little creature." 

But as the Japanese success took on the complexion of an unqualified Russian 
rout, Roosevelt's satisfaction with the war began to wane. Though his sympa- 
thies were with Japan, he realized that an overwhelming victory by either side 
would make an added threat to the territorial integrity of China and to Ameri- 


can interests in the Philippines. Thus, when the Japanese captured Port Arthur 
in the first month of 1905 and proceeded to their victory at Mukden, Roose- 
velt felt that the war must be brought to an end. He was not alone in this view. 
The French were getting alarmed; the Kaiser, too, felt things had gone far 
enough; and even the Japanese were finding the war a heavy strain on their 
manpower and economy. Moreover, France and England were by this time 
beginning to fear that they might need Russia's help against Germany in the 
event that the crisis which was beginning to shape up in Morocco took a 
desperate turn. 

At first, to peace overtures both Russia and Japan turned a deaf ear. Neither 
country was ready to enter negotiations. Roosevelt kept sounding out the bel- 
ligerents without success. However, after the Japanese won a smashing naval 
victory in the Sea of Japan in May a victory Roosevelt termed more over- 
whelming than Trafalgar or even the defeat of the Spanish Armada Japan 
notified the American President that it would accept his good offices as a media- 
tor for peace. Two weeks later, in a letter to Senator Lodge, Roosevelt was still 
picturing Russia as "so corrupt, so treacherous and shifty, and so incompetent, 
that I am utterly unable to say whether or not it will make peace." Neverthe- 
less, both Russia and Japan agreed to send plenipotentiaries to a conference 
in the United States. "I have led the horses to water, but heaven only knows 
whether they will drink or start kicking one another beside the trough," wrote 
Roosevelt to a friend. 

Meanwhile, an interesting though unpublicized footnote had been added 
to the complex negotiations. Secretary of War Taft, who had stopped off in 
Japan on his way to the Philippine Islands, received assurances that Japan had 
no interest in the Philippines. Taft, on the other hand, told the Japanese Prime 
Minister that the United States concurred with Anglo-Japanese policy in the 
Far East and had no objection if Japan would exercise suzerainty over the un- 
stable Korean empire. This secret understanding was significant both as an 
example of Roosevelt's free-wheeling diplomatic methods and as a further 
demonstration of his partiality in the Russo-Japanese controversy. 

On August 5, 1905, the Russian and Japanese envoys were formally received 
by the President in the wardroom of the U.S.S. Mayflower, anchored in the 
harbor at Oyster Bay. The ieremony was so carefully planned that even the 
wardroom chairs were removed from around the table lest there be any con- 
troversy about precedence in seating arrangements. At the close of the buffet 
luncheon the President proposed a solemn toast to "a just and lasting peace," 
after which the envoys departed for Portsmouth, New Hampshire, to begin 
their peace conference. 

Three weeks of negotiation brought forth the agreement that Japan was to 
be given Port Arthur and a protectorate in Korea. However, Russia firmly 
refused to pay an indemnity as desired by Japan. When the conference seemed 
about to founder on this issue, Roosevelt persuaded both sides to accept a com- 
promise under which Japan waived indemnities in exchange for the southern 
half of the island of Sakhalin, off the Siberian coast. The proposal was accepted, 
and on September 5 the delegates signed the peace treaty. The world looked 

upon Roosevelt as a great man; congratulations came to him from kings and 
commoners alike. In England, Edward VII told the American Ambassador 
that he was "simply lost in admiration for the President." 

Even before the Russo-Japanese peace was signed, Roosevelt had stepped 
into the middle of another great-power dispute by settling an ugly contro- 
versy that had arisen over control of the nominally "independent" state of 
Morocco. The President's role in this drama was played so secretly that its full 
import did not become known until many years later; but in the opinion of 
Secretary Root it was of far greater importance to the world than his role in 
ending the Russo-Japanese War. To the extent that the Moroccan settlement 
staved off World War I and helped bind us irrevocably to the Anglo-French 
alliance, this judgment seemed to be based on solid foundation. 

In essence, the Moroccan crisis was an offspring of French acquisitiveness 
and German frustration. At the turn of the century all the major European 
powers had extensive commercial interests in Morocco, when in 1904 England 
and France signed a treaty designed to freeze out their rivals. Under the pub- 
licly announced provisions of the treaty, England agreed to give France a free 
hand in Morocco in exchange for a free British hand in Egypt; under secret 
provisions, which came to light later, the two powers agreed to Morocco's even- 
tual partitioning. To the ambitious Kaiser Wilhelm of Germany, this Anglo- 
French entente looked like another crucial step in the dreaded encirclement 
of his imperial dreams. He visited Morocco and expressed hopes for the inde- 
pendence of that state. Now, France refused the Kaiser's demand for a conference 
to discuss neutral rights in Morocco, and her decision was backed by England. 

The shaken Kaiser turned to Roosevelt, asking for his intervention in 
behalf of his proposal for a conference, arguing that all he sought in Morocco 
was an "open door" policy of the sort America supported in China. The 
Kaiser's message reached Roosevelt while he was on a hunting trip in Colorado. 
His first inclination was to do nothing. But when he returned to Washington, 
all signs pointed toward a European war. Such a conflagration, Roosevelt 
knew, would wreck his pacification efforts in the Far East. Thus, he accepted 
the Kaiser's request and interfered in the conflict. He asked the French Ambas- 
sador to persuade his government to agflee to a Moroccan conference that would 
allow the Kaiser "to save his face." The result of Roosevelt's proposal was the 
Algeciras Conference, where Henry White represented the American interests. 
To him Roosevelt wrote: "I want to keep on good terms with Germany and if 
possible to prevent a rupture between Germany and France. But my sympa- 
thies have at bottom been with France and I suppose will continue so." At the 
conference table America's weight generally leaned toward the Anglo-French 
side, and Germany had to settle for smajl crumbs of prestige. The Kaiser got 
his conference, and France got Morocco. 

The value of President Roosevelt's two great foreign policy adventures of 
1905 is open to dispute. Yet the fact remains that in both the Far East and 
North Africa the immediate effect of his interventions was peace. 



JAPANESE OBSERVERS watch the effect of the 
Japanese guns on Port Arthur from a balloon. 

THE HUMAN PYRAMID of Japanese soldie 
storms over a high stone wall outside Port Arthu 

THE RUSSIAN ARMY marches through Man- 
churia. A photograph by war correspondent Bulla. 

The war began on February 9, 1904, with Japan's 
night attack on the Russian fleet in Port Arthur. 
The Japanese fleet, commanded by Vice-Admiral 
Togo, inflicted heavy losses on the Russians and 
bottled up their fleet inside the harbor. Hearing the 

1200 JAPANESE DEAD littered the battlefic 
after the savage battle of Tashihkiao on June 2 

news, Roosevelt wrote to his eldest son: "I was 
thoroughly well pleased with the Japanese victory, 
for Japan is playing our game." In his opinion, 
Russia had "behaved very badly in the Far East, 
her attitude toward all nations including us, but 


CHAMPAGNE AND SHELLS. A Russian officers' 
party in Port Arthur is disrupted by enemy fire. 

MANTLET AND SHEARS. Japanese soldiers hid- 
ing behind mantlets destroy Russian barbed wire. 

aristocracy sew garments for the Russian wounded. 

especially toward Japan, being grossly overbearing." 
A week later he told Elihu Root that "the Japs 
showed themselves past masters in the practical 
application of David Harum's famous gloss on the 
'Do unto others' injunction. They did it fust! Oh, if 

French ^Illustration depicts soldiers leaving Omsk. 

only our people would learn the need of prepared- 
ness, and of shaping things so that decision and 
action can alike be instantaneous. Mere bigness, if it 
is also mere flabbiness, means nothing but disgrace." 
But as the war went on, Roosevelt's attitude changed. 



After Roosevelt instructed the American Ambassador 
in Russia to offer his services to bring about peace 
between Russia and Japan, he left Washington on 
April 4 for a hunting trip in the Southwest. Be- 
fore his departure he assured the country that there 
was no need to worry as he had "left Taft sitting on 
the lid," a phrase which was gleefully acknowledged 
by political commentators and cartoonists. 

Four days later he sent Taft a confidential note 
from "En Route," saying that he expected the 
Japanese would materially increase their demands 
after their victory over the Russians under General 
Kuropatkin at Mukden. "My own view is that the 
Russians would do well to close with them even now; 
but the Czar knows neither how to make war nor to 
make peace. If he had an ounce of sense he would 
have acted upon my suggestion last January and 
have made peace then. There is nothing for us to do 
now but to sit still and wait events." 

And while he waited for events to develop, he had 
"unalloyed pleasure" in "coursing wolves in Okla- 
homa," being in the saddle for eight or nine hours 
every day. Then he journeyed to Colorado for a long- 
anticipated bear hunt with his friends Dr. Alex- 
ander Lambert and Phil Stuart (riding behind him). 


Wilhelm IPs visit in Morocco at the end of March 
1905 and his remark in Tangier that the Sultan of 
Morocco was an independent monarch created great 
apprehension in European diplomatic circles. It was 
only a year previously that France and England had 
made a secret agreement to eliminate German inter- 
est in Morocco, and now the German Kaiser came 

out as protector of the Sultan an ill omen for the 
future and for peace. It was rumored that Germany 
and Russia were secretly allied, and though these 
rumors proved to be untrue, the mere possibility of 
a German-Russian alliance made France tremble with 
fright. She needed Russia's friendship; she needed 
that country as an ally against Germany. And Great 
Britain, in her desire to keep the balance of power 

in Europe, was also fervently courting Russia. Thus, 
diplomats, ambassadors, foreign ministers in the 
European capitals maneuvered for position. As all 
three great European powers sought Russia's friend- 
ship, they had a vital interest in the cessation of the 
Russo-Japanese War. It remained for Roosevelt to 
be the peacemaker and bring representatives of the 
two warring nations to a conference in America. 


ROOSEVELT'S ENVOY IN JAPAN. William Howard Taft and his party, among them 
Roosevelt's daughter Alice (in the center), visited Japan in the summer of 1905 on the 
way to the Philippines. Taft urged the Japanese to make peace with the Russians. 



THE PEACEMAKER. On August 5, 1905, President Roosevelt arrived at the Mayflower, 
lying in the harbor of Oyster Bay, to meet the Japanese and Russian envoys. " Whether 

they will be able to come to an agreement or not I can't say Of course Japan will want 

to ask more than she ought to ask, and Russia to give less than she ought to give But 

there is a chance that they will prove sensible, and make a peace, which will really be for 
the interest of each as things are now." Thus wrote Roosevelt to his son Kermit. The 
delegates left in separate ships for Portsmouth, N.H., the place of the peace conference. 



MEETING THE ENVOYS of Japan and Russia 
on board the Mayflower at Oyster Bay before they 
began their conferences. On the left, the leaders of 
Russia's delegation: Count Witte and Baron Rosen; 
on the right, the Japanese Baron Komura and 
Minister Takahira. 

Once Roosevelt wrote to his friend Lodge: "The 
more I see of the Czar, the Kaiser and the Mikado, 
the better I am content with democracy, even if we 
have to include the American newspaper as one of 
its assets liability would be a better term." 

cartoon in Barcelona's Hojas Selectas. "Now, be good, 
boys, and throw yourselves at the feet of this divin- 
ity." Roosevelt, though attacked by Japan for not 
letting her secure an indemnity, was hailed by the 
civilized world. For his contribution in bringing 
Japan and Russia together, he was the first Ameri- 
can statesman to receive the Nobel Peace Prize. 


On Roosevelt's insistence the representatives of the 
two warring nations sat down at a conference table 
to negotiate the terms of peace. In front are the 
Japanese envoys: Messrs. Adatchi and Otchai, 
Baron Jutaro Komura, Minister for Foreign Affairs, 
Minister Kogoro Takahira, Aimaro Sato. On the 
opposite side of the table, the Russians: Mr. Plancon, 
C. Nabokoff, Count Serge Witte, Baron Roman 
Rosen, Russian Ambassador to the United States, 
J. J. Korostovetz. 

After the peace treaty was concluded, Roosevelt 



was blamed by both Russia and Japan of bringing 
the war to an end prematurely. "The Russians 
claimed that they were just getting t into their stride, 
while the Japanese asserted that had the war con- 
tinued a few months more they would have been able 
to obtain a huge indemnity." But Roosevelt knew 
that "The truth was that the Japanese had to have 
peace. Their money was exhausted. So was their 
credit. . . . When I intervened Japan was on the 
verge of collapse. She was bled white." And Russia 
was in no better state. "If the war went on," so 

Roosevelt thought, it was "likely that Russia would 
be driven west of Lake Baikal." 

In the treaty of peace, signed on August 23, the 
Russians agreed to cede half of Sakhalin to Japan, 
surrender their lease of the Kwantung Peninsula and 
Port Arthur, evacuate Manchuria, and recognize 
Japan's suzerainty in Korea. 

Roosevelt felt the securing of the peace greatly 
increased America's prestige, "and as far as I am 
personally affected I have received infinitely more 
praise for it than in my opinion I deserve. . . ." 


THE FAMILY AT SAGAMORE HILL IN 1907. The children from left to right: Quentin, 
Ethel, Kermit, Theodore, Jr., and Archibald. "Home, wife, children," wrote Roosevelt 
some years later to his eldest son, "they are what really count in life. I have heartily en- 
joyed many things; the Presidency, my success as a soldier, a writer, a big game hunter and 
explorer; but all of them put together are not for one moment to be weighed in the balance 
when compared with the joy I have known with your mother and all of you. . . ." 




If the years of Theodore Roosevelt's Presidency were told only in terms of 
political controversies and diplomatic adventures, the story would not be 
complete. His public policies shaped our national development and projected 
us into a new role in world affairs, yet they were only one measure of a per- 
sonality that was unique in its time and, indeed, in American history. 

No other President has rivaled his diversity of interests or his physical energy; 
and none made a deeper imprint on the outlook and opinions of his contem- 
poraries. "Roosevelt, more than any other living man within the range of 
notoriety/' said Henry Adams, "showed the singular primitive quality that 
belongs to ultimate matter the quality that mediaeval theology assigned to 
God he was pure act/' And he was not only in the political field "pure act." 
He had opinions on almost every subject and an extraordinary flair for ex- 
pressing them forcefully. As one national magazine summed it up in 1906: 
"The scrapes he gets into, the scrapes he gets out of; the things he attempts, 
the things he accomplishes, the things he demolishes; his appointments and 
his disappointments; the rebukes that he administers and those he receives; 
his assumptions, presumptions, omnisciences and deficiencies, make up a daily 
tale which those of us who survive his tenure of the presidential office will doubt- 
less miss, as we might miss some property of the atmosphere we breathe." 
Julian Street spoke for millions in labeling him "the most interesting Ameri- 
can," and John Morley, the British historian, after a visit to the White House 
said: "The two things in America which seem to me the most extraordinary 
are Niagara Falls and President Roosevelt." 

Roosevelt was an omniverous reader o r books and periodicals, and he talked 
about them constantly. Writers who spoke critically of him were likely to re- 
ceive long letters of rebuttal; authors whose work interested him were asked to 
the White House to discuss their ideas. "I am delighted to show any courtesy 
to Pierpont Morgan or Andrew Carnegie or James J. Hill," the President once 
remarked in explaining his guest lists, "but as for regarding any one of them 
as, for instance, I regard Professor Bury, or Peary, the arctic explorer, or 
Rhodes, the historian why, I could not force myself to do it, even if I wanted 
to, which I don't." He liked to surround himself with people of thought rather 
than people of wealth. As Owen Wister put it, "For once in our history, we 
had an American salon." 

The President regarded the White House as "a bully pulpit," and the 
preaching from his pulpit was not limited to political matters alone. He 
preached the virtue of simplified spelling, though Congress indignantly re- 


belled when he ordered the Government Printer to adopt such phonetic 
changes as "tho" for "though" and "thru" for "through." He preached with 
equal vigor against what he termed the "nature fakers" who wrote what pur- 
ported to be factual children's books attributing human emotions and reason- 
ing powers to animals. He preached the doctrine of the strenuous life, with daily 
demonstrations to the delight of the public and cartoonists. He preached, also, 
the virtues of large families and the sacredness of the American home. 

He was a moralist, firmly believing in moral principles. He wrote: "If 
courage and strength and intellect are unaccompanied by the moral purpose, 
the moral sense, they become merely forms of expression for unscrupulous 
force and unscrupulous cunning. If the strong man has not in him the lift 
toward lofty things his strength makes him only a curse to himself and to his 
neighbor." And he said to his son Kermit: "If a man does not have an ideal 
and try to live up to it, then he becomes a mean, base and sordid creature, no 
matter how successful." For Theodore Roosevelt "morality, decency, clean 
living, courage, manliness, self-respect these qualities are more important in 
the make-up of a people than any mental subtlety." He pleaded: "We ought 
not to tolerate wrong. It is a sign of weakness to do so, and in its ultimate ef- 
fects weakness is often quite as bad as wickedness. But in putting a stop 
to wrong we should, so far as possible, avoid getting into an attitude of vin- 
dictive hatred toward the wrongdoer." Such were his fundamental tenets, 
forming a base to his philosophy on life. 

He believed in the sanctity of marriage. He said: "When the ordinary de- 
cent man does not understand that to marry the woman he loves, as early as 
he can, is the most desirable of all goals, the most successful of all forms of life 
entitled to be called really successful; when the ordinary woman does not un- 
derstand that all other forms of life are but makeshift and starveling substi- 
tutes for the life of the happy wife, the mother of a fair-sized family of healthy 
children; then the state is rotten at heart." He was against divorce and argued 
his point. "I do unqualifiedly condemn easy divorce. I know that the effect on 
the 'Four Hundred' of easy divorce has been very bad. It has been shocking 
to me to hear young girls about to get married calmly speculating on how long it 
will be before they get divorces." He was for families, the larger the merrier. 
"The woman who shrinks f^om motherhood is as low a creature as a man of 
the professional pacifist, or poltroon type, who shirks his duty as a soldier." 
But he had decided opinions about the offspring of "the wrong people." He 
wished that "the wrong people could be prevented entirely from breeding; and 
when the evil nature of these people is sufficiently flagrant, this should be 
done. Criminals should be sterilized, and feeble-minded persons forbidden to 
leave offspring behind them." 

For the role of the wife in the family he had great respect. "I have mighty 
little use for the man who is always declaiming in favor of an eight-hour day 
for himself who does not think anything at all of having a sixteen-hour day 
for his wife." And he held that males must share responsibility in bringing up 
children. Once he asked a naturalist whether the male wolf took any interest 
in the female during pregnancy and whether he ever took care of the cubs. 


When the naturalist said that he had observed the wolf doing both Roosevelt 
shouted in delight: "I'm glad to hear it! I think better of him." 

In matters of morality Roosevelt assiduously practiced what he preached, 
and nowhere was this more evident than in his family life, which was a sepa- 
rate and hallowed compartment of his existence. "I have had the happiest 
home life of any man I have ever known/' he once wrote, and he regarded it 
as perhaps the greatest achievement of his career. Writing to his son Kermit, 
after the 1904 election, he said: "It was a great comfort to feel, all during the 
last days when affairs looked doubtful, that no matter how things came out 
the really important thing was the lovely life I have with Mother and 
you children, and that compared to this home life everything else was of very 
small importance from the standpoint of happiness." He never so his daugh- 
ter says showed the slightest interest in any woman other than his wife. He 
was the cleanest-living man. In his entire life there were but two women 
Alice, his first wife, and, after her death, Edith, his second. And even before 
he married Edith, he went through soul-searching agonies, walking the floor 
for three days, "pounding one fist into the other palm, expostulating the while 
to himself: 'I have no constancy. I have no constancy.'" 

He adored his family. His children shared his exuberance, and this pro- 
duced a continuous flow of colorful newspaper stories. The nation read with 
delight about Quentin smuggling Algonquin, a calico pony, up the White 
House elevator and into his brother's bedroom, or his scaring the wits out of 
some Congressmen by bringing a four-foot king snake into the anteroom of his 
father's office. When Archie, whose engaging personality made him the public's 
particular favorite, nearly died of diphtheria shortly after his thirteenth birth- 
day, the New York Times said that "all Washington, on getting up these 
mornings, eagerly scans the newspaper with the query, 'How's Archie?' " 

Early in Roosevelt's Presidency the New York Herald reported: "It has been 
an extraordinary change for the strenuous young Roosevelts, this transforma- 
tion from the quiet country life of Oyster Bay to the dazzling, bewilder- 
ing atmosphere of the national capital." Actually, the "quiet life of Oyster 
Bay" was not entirely lost to the Roosevelt children when their father became 
President. The rambling house at Sagamore Hill became the summer White 
House; and despite the ever-present Secret Service men and the streams of 
official visitors who made their way up the hill from the village railroad sta- 
tion, life there remained in most respects as idyllic as ever. "There could be 
no healthier and pleasanter place in which to bring up children," Roosevelt 
wrote in his Autobiography. "It was real country and speaking from the some- 
what detached point of view of the masculine parent I should say there was 
just the proper mixture of freedom and control in the management of the chil- 
dren. They were never allowed to be disobedient or to shirk lessons or work; 
and they were encouraged to have all the fun possible. They often went bare- 
foot, especially during the many hours passed in various enthralling pursuits 
along and in the waters of the bay. They swam, they tramped, they boated, 
they coasted and skated in winter, they were intimate friends with the cows, 
chickens, pigs and other live stock." 


He entered into their pastimes with the enthusiasm of a man who was al- 
ways half child himself. It was truly a remarkable sight, reported a visit- 
ing newspaper man from Chicago, to see "the President of the United States 
at the head of this young band of savages on their way to the woods or to the 
target grounds." For the Roosevelt children and their numerous small cousins 
(the J. West Roosevelts and the Emlen Roosevelts were Sagamore Hill neigh- 
bors), the big event of the summer was the annual overnight camping 
trip down the bay a trip that was always under the personal command of 
"Father," who prepared the supper and told stories of his Western adventures 
around the campfire before his charges fell asleep under the stars. And 
no matter how heavy the press of official business, nothing was permitted to 
interfere with the leisurely family breakfast each morning or with the walk or 
drive which he took every afternoon with his wife, whose serene and well- 
ordered management of the Sagamore Hill household was a constant and 
valued counterweight to his exuberance. 

In her role as first lady Mrs. Roosevelt shied away from the limelight, de- 
voting much of her attention to the task of trying to keep its glare from inter- 
fering with a normal upbringing for the children. Inevitably, her very lack of 
ostentation exposed her to some feline jibes. Mrs. Stuyvesant Fish, the New 
York society leader, remarked: "The wife of the President, it is said, dresses 
on $300 a year, and she looks it." But for the most part the nation respected 
her self-effacing traits, and her friends spoke with admiration of her gracious- 
ness and her effectiveness as a sage if unobtrusive partner to her husband in 
affairs of state as well as affairs of the family. "Never, when he had his wife's 
judgment, did he go wrong or suffer disappointment," said Mark Sullivan. 

Next to the President himself, easily the most colorful member of the family 
was the headstrong and imperious Alice, a young lady of 1 7 at the time the 
Roosevelts moved into the White House. Intelligent, beautiful, vigorously in- 
dependent, she soon found the heady life of the rich far more to her lik- 
ing than the wholesome atmosphere of Sagamore Hill. Writing to his sister 
Corinne at the end of the summer of 1903, the President mentioned that 
Alice had been "spending most of her time in Newport and elsewhere, 
associating with the Four Hundred individuals with whom the other mem- 
bers of her family have exceedingly few affiliations." The newspapers, in 
which she was referred to as "Princess Alice," kept an amused and generally 
admiring audience of millions informed of her adventures her romances, her 
irrepressible comments on the passing scene, her trips about the countryside at 
the dizzying speed of thirty miles an hour in a Panhard racer automo- 
bile. When she openly smoked a cigarette, it was the sensation of the year. 
Her name was appropriated by the clothing trade, which produced the new 
shade of "Alice blue," just as her father's nickname had been used by the 
makers of "Teddy bears." 

"I can do one of two things," Roosevelt once remarked to a friend with mock 
concern. "I can be President of the United States or I can control Alice. 
I cannot possibly do both." In the summer of 1905 Alice joined Mr. and Mrs. 
William Howard Taft and a delegation of Congressmen and wives in a much- 


publicized tour of the Far East; and the following February she married one 
of the gentlemen who was with the party on the voyage Congressman Nicholas 
Longworth, talented scion of one of Ohio's first families. 

The "strenuous life" which Roosevelt both preached and practiced was not 
only strenuous physically but intellectually as well. It was significant that the 
devoted group of younger officials who surrounded and advised him during 
his White House years were popularly named the "Tennis Cabinet" an apt 
term to distinguish them from the older and less vigorous men who comprised 
the regular Cabinet. Nothing short of the gravest affairs of state was allowed 
to interfere with his daily exercise, though he would not permit photographers 
to take his picture on the tennis court. At Sagamore Hill the tennis was sup- 
plemented by riding, rowing, lumbering, and hiking. In Washington he rode 
or hiked when time and weather permitted; or if confined to the White 
House, he practiced boxing, wrestling, and jujitsu. It was as a result of a box- 
ing bout at the White House that he all but lost the sight of his left eye. 

Of all the President's outdoor pastimes, perhaps the most characteristic of 
all were his "obstacle walks," a form of exercise which he first devised at Sag- 
amore Hill to entertain and toughen his children and their cousins. The rules 
were simple; the hikers proceeded from the starting point to the objective in a 
beeline without stopping and without permitting any natural obstacle to 
divert their course. In Washington the "obstacle walks" were generally taken 
at Rock Creek, and it was counted a considerable honor though an exhaust- 
ing one to be invited to accompany him. It was partly as an outgrowth of 
this pastime that he tried on one occasion to combat the indolent habits of the 
swivel-chair Army officers in Washington by issuing an order that they must 
establish their physical fitness by marching fifty miles in a three-day period 
or, in the case of cavalry officers, riding one hundred miles in the same period. 
When the order was widely attacked as tyrannical and capricious, the Pres- 
ident, in company with three Army officers, rode more than one hundred 
miles in a single day over the back roads of Virginia through freezing rain 
and sleet to prove that the test was not unduly demanding. 

It was such episodes that made him the most controversial and provocative 
public figure of his time. People couW revere him or deplore him, condemn 
his actions or praise them, but no one could ignore him. The enormous range 
of his interests, and his endless reservoirs of combative energy, projected him 
into every phase of national life; and whether the issue was big or little, he 
was generally to be found in its storm center. "Roosevelt," as one of his far- 
from-worshipful contemporaries acknowledged, "has the knack of doing 
things, and doing them noisily, clamorously; while he is in the neighborhood 
the public can no more look the other way than the small boy can turn his 
head away from a circus parade followed by a steam calliope." 


THE NEWLYWEDS. On February 17, 1906, First Ohio District. The wedding one of the most 

twenty-two-year-old Alice Roosevelt married thirty- brilliant of the early part of the century was held 

six-year-old Nicholas Longworth, scion of a Cincin- at the White House, as Roosevelt said, "against 

nati family and Republican congressman from the a background which bristled with 'officialdom.' " 

;4&f *u -i.<4 fcj+~*. 

* J* .4- ^..<r^ 

& c .^v** 


Ever since he was a child Roosevelt had liked to 
draw funny little sketches in his letters, illustrating 


Alice remembers that the draping of her 

the events he described. And when he became a 
father, he delighted his five children with such 
letters, some of the most charming he ever penned. 


Panama Canal. Though the Canal was not opened to commercial traffic until August 1914, 
it was during his administration that the plans were adopted and the bulk of the work done. 

In November of 1906 the President and his wife paid a visit to the Canal Zone to see with 
his own eyes how the project was progressing. It was the first time in the country's history 
that an American President had traveled outside American territory while in office. Roose- 
velt went everywhere; he inspected the huge machinery, he took a seat inside the giant 
steam shovels. 

When Roosevelt visited Panama the project was still in its early stage, the Commis- 
sion being preoccupied mainly with assembling the enormous amounts of equipment, 
expanding and organizing the complex railroad network required to move materials 
and men, and with the building of accommodations for the 45,000 construction workers. 




The construction of the Panama Canal was the biggest, costliest, and most 
difficult public works project ever undertaken by the American people. Of all 
Roosevelt's achievements, it was the one closest to his heart. He approached 
it with an almost missionary belief in its importance to humanity. Years after 
the Panamanian revolt, when he acknowledged that "I took the Isthmus," he 
emphasized that he was of "a wholly unrepentant frame of mind" on the 
subject. "The ethical conception upon which I acted," he said, "was that I did 
not intend that Uncle Sam should be held up while he was doing a great work 
for himself and all mankind." 

Customarily the canal is pictured as one of history's greatest engineering 
feats. But while the engineering problems were numerous and of great scope, 
they were not unprecedented or even very intricate. Far more frustrating and 
time-consuming were the mechanics of the undertaking the endless problems 
of labor, of supply, and particularly of public health in a tropical and disease- 
ridden climate. Plagued by malaria and yellow fever, Panama was one of the 
foulest pestholes in the world. This more than anything else was the reason why 
the French attempt to build the canal under the direction of Ferdinand 
DeLesseps in the eighties turned into a tragic fiasco. 

The first question which President Roosevelt and Congress had to answer 
was whether the great new waterway should be a sea-level canal or a lock canal. 
Lawmakers, engineers, and the public-at-large debated the issue for many 
months. The international board of inquiry recruited by the President was un- 
able to come to agreement. Roosevelt pondered over the issue and, after ex- 
amining all the evidence, decided on Vv a lock canal. He reasoned that though a 
sea-level canal would cost slightly less to operate and would be less vulnerable 
in time of war, a lock canal would cost half as much to build and could be 
built in half the time. Thus, influenced and pressured by the impetuous 
President, the Senate by a vote of 36 to 31 approved the lock plan; and the 
House fell into line. 

The health problem in the Canal area was one of the greatest obstacles to 
the progress of the undertaking. At the suggestion of a group of promi- 
nent doctors Roosevelt instructed the seven-man Canal Commission to place 
all sanitation work under the jurisdiction of General William C. Gorgas, who 
had been victorious over yellow fever in Cuba some three years before. But 
when Gorgas set about the work of eradicating from the forty-mile-long Canal 
Zone the Stegomyia mosquito the small insect which transmitted the 
disease he was opposed by the Canal Commission, who regarded the mos- 


quito theory as nonsense. The commissioners believed that the only way to 
drive disease from the Canal Zone was by eliminating filth, burying garbage, 
and painting all buildings. Gorgas's pleas for chemicals, crude oil, and metal 
screening went unheeded. 

Early in 1905 a yellow^fever epidemic struck the Zone. Chief Engineer 
John F. Wallace threatened to resign; workmen put down their tools and 
demanded passage back to the States; incoming laborers refused to disembark 
from the ships. Gorgas, even though he had warned his superiors of the danger 
of epidemics, was saddled with most of the blame. It was a curious state of affairs 
to have the prophet accused while the guilty men played the role of prosecutor. 

The President, increasingly dissatisfied with the sluggishness of the Canal 
Commission, enmeshed in constant controversy and administrative red tape, 
decided that it was time to take matters into his own hands. As Congress was 
unwilling to provide for a smaller governing body with a less divided authority, 
he dismissed the first commission and replaced it with a new one headed by 
Theodore P. Shonts, a hard-driving railroad builder from the Middle West. 
Shonts' ideas about yellow fever were no different from those of the preceding 
commissioners. He, too, believed that if Gorgas instead of fighting mosquitoes 
would concentrate on cleaning up Panama City and the other settlements 
in the Canal area, yellow fever would no longer be a hazard. Fortified by this be- 
lief, he sent a memorandum to Secretary of War Taft, asking for the dismissal of 
Gorgas; Taft, endorsing the memorandum, passed it on to the President 
at Sagamore Hill. 

This put Roosevelt on the horns of a dilemma. He had promised Shonts abso- 
lute authority in running the Canal Commission, therefore he was reluctant to 
override the first major exercise of that authority; at the same time he was 
strongly inclined to agree with the beliefs of Gorgas about yellow fever. Dis- 
cussing the problem with his personal physician, Dr. Alexander Lambert, who 
had accompanied him on a bear hunt in Colorado only a few months before, 
he was advised to let Gorgas prove the theory in practice. 

Roosevelt needed no further urging. He made up his mind to back Gorgas, 
and gave his word to stick with him. Thus, with the President behind him, 
Gorgas went on with his campaign against the Stegomyia mosquito through- 
out the summer. By early fill he knew that his efforts were successful. 

The next plague to be overcome was malaria. Gorgas intensified his attacks 
against the disease, which was propagated by the Anopheles, another variety 
of mosquito. Again he ran into resistance from the Canal Commission. The 
commissioners complained that the campaign against malaria was costing the 
American taxpayers ten dollars for every mosquito killed. Yet Gorgas persisted, 
and he proved his point. By 1914, when the first ships passed through "the big 
ditch/ 9 the death rate from all causes in the Canal Zone was the astonishingly 
low figure of 6 per thousand against 14.1 per thousand in the United States 
a signal success due mainly to the foresight of Gorgas. 

Late in 1906, President Roosevelt himself paid a visit to the Canal Zone with 
Mrs. Roosevelt in order to obtain firsthand knowledge of the project and its 
progress. At the time of his visit the grand plan of the canal was clear; its key 


feature was to be a huge lake created at eighty feet above sea level by dam* 
ming the Chargres and Rio Grande rivers. From this body of water Gatun 
Lake the canal's descent to the Atlantic and Pacific was to be achieved by a 
system of locks at both ends. 

Administrative problems continued to impede progress. Early in 1907 John F. 
Stevens, chairman and chief engineer of the Canal Commission, resigned. 
Roosevelt saw that he must solve the administrative problems, once and for 
all. The enormous job in Panama required a firm, co-ordinated administra- 
tion by a permanent staff that would stay with it until it was done; but because 
of the complex problems and the distastefulness of life in the hot and unde- 
veloped area, the personnel turnover averaged about ninety per cent a year, 
an ominously high figure. 

The President appointed a third commission, composed primarily of Army 
and Navy engineers, "who will stay on the job till I get tired of having them 
there, or till I say they may abandon it." To the post of chairman and chief 
engineer he named Lieutenant Colonel George W. Goethals, a senior officer 
in the Army Engineers and a recognized expert on canal construction. By 
executive order Goethals was given supreme authority over all matters con- 
nected with the canal. To the other members of the commission the President 
put the matter frankly. "If at any time you do not agree with Colonel 
Goethals' policies," he told them, "do not bother to tell me about it your 
disagreement with him will constitute your resignation." Goethals was given 
a free hand, and the policy worked. 

In such a way, Congress which had steadfastly rejected Roosevelt's pro- 
posals to change the multi-headed commission system in favor of a one-man 
control was effectively circumvented. Time has proved the soundness of 
Roosevelt's decision. Armed with authority, technical competence, and an 
iron sense of responsibility, Goethals played the part of a benevolent tyrant 
with striking success from the first. He overcame staggering technical difficulties 
particularly in the mountainous section known as the "Culebra Cut," where 
there was a succession of nearly disastrous landslides. The difficulties at 
Culebra proved conclusively the wisdom of the bitterly debated decision to 
build a lock canal instead of trying tt> c TOSS the mountains at sea level. "There 
is not enough money in the world to construct a canal at sea level," Goethals 
had said at the height of the controversy, "and if constructed, it could not be 
kept open." 

By the time the Panama Canal was completed, the cost to the American 
taxpayers totaled $223,000,000, not including the $40,000,000 paid to the 
French canal company and the $10,000,000 given to the Republic of Panama 
for the Canal Zone. Yet its significance could not be measured in dollars. The 
canal, a monument to American technical proficiency, became the most 
enormous economic and military asset to the United States. That it was trans- 
formed from a seemingly Utopian plan into bold reality was greatly due to the 
courageous and determined leadership of Theodore Roosevelt. 




"I went over everything," wrote Roosevelt to his son Kermit from his tour of the Panama 
Canal in November 1906, "that I could possibly go over in the time at my disposal. 
I examined the quarters of married and single men, white men and negroes. I went over 
the ground of the Gatun and La Boca dams; went through Panama and Colon, and spent 
a day in the Culebra Cut, where the great work is being done. There the huge steamshovels 
are hard at it; scooping huge masses of rock and gravel and dirt previously loosened by the 
drillers and dynamite blasters, loading it on trains which take it away to some dump, either 
in the jungle or where the dams are to be built. They arc eating steadily into the mountain, 
cutting it down and down. Little tracks are laid on the side-hills, rocks blasted out, and the 
great ninety-five ton steamshovels work up like mountain howitzers until they come to where 
they can with advantage begin their work of eating into and destroying the mountainside. 
With intense energy men and machines do their task, the white men supervising matters 
and handling the machines, while the tens of thousands of black men do the rough manual 
labor where it is not worth while to have machines to do it. It is an epic feat, and one of 
immense significance." 

It was only a year previously that a yellow-fever epidemic had struck the Canal Zone, 
causing panic among the construction workers. Chief Engineer John F. Wallace, who had 



taken the precaution of having his coffin sent to Panama, threatened to resign, and General 
William C. Gorgas the man who had cleaned Cuba of the disease and who was now fighting 
the mosquitoes in the Panama Canal area blamed for the epidemic. Members of the 
Panama Canal Commission ridiculed Gorgas's efforts and demanded his resignation. 
Roosevelt had to decide whether to let Gorgas go or to uphold him. He consulted his friend 
Dr. Alexander Lambert, who told him: "If you fall back on the old methods of sanitation, 
you will fail, just as the French failed. But if you back up Gorgas and his ideas and let him 
pursue his campaign against the mosquitoes you will get your Canal." The President 
followed the advice; he told Gorgas to keep on with his fight against the Stegomyia mos- 
quito. It was a tremendously important decision and it meant success. Gorgas kept on, 
and by the early fall of 1905 he felt confident enough to tell a group of surgeons who were 
examining the corpse of a yellow-fever victim in a government hospital: 'Take a good look 
at this man, boys, for it's the last case of yellow fever you will ever see. There will never be 
any more deaths from this cause in Panama," a prediction which proved to be accurate. 
After Gorgas eradicated yellow fever, he went on to fight against malaria, propagated by 
another variety of mosquito. Again the Canal Commission resisted him, and again the Gen- 
eral proved his point. Thus, when Roosevelt came to inspect the progress of the con- 
struction he saw that things were proceeding well and that his dream was taking shape. 




"I have a definite philosophy about the Presidency," Roosevelt told the 
British historian Trevelyan. "I think it should be a very powerful office, and I 
think the President should be a very strong man who uses without hesitation 
every power that the position yields." Roosevelt was not afraid to use such 
powers and to use them forcefully. Seeking to temper the worst social and 
economic effects of American industrialism, he wielded the "big stick" against 
big business as no President had done before him. 

Wall Street looked upon him as a dangerous socialist. This was an exagger- 
ation. Roosevelt's "Square Deal" was essentially a middle-class program, 
aimed as much at "unruly labor leaders" as at "the predatory rich." He was 
profoundly disturbed by the growth of the radical movement in America, and 
he attributed it largely to the "dull, purblind folly" of men who accepted the 
privileges of great wealth without accepting its responsibilities. He himself 
would have liked to be a middle-of-the-road umpire who would keep the rich 
from exploiting the poor so that the poor would not be induced to seize power 
and exploit the rich. 

Roosevelt tended to view this more as a moral than as an economic or a 
social problem. In his opinion monopoly was not evil in itself; there were 
"good" trusts and "bad" ones, and the duty of government was to force the 
bad ones to become good by making them follow what he deemed to be the 
path of "righteousness." This copybook approach amused many of his more 
skeptical friends. Speaker of the Hpuse Thomas B. Reed once told him: "If 
there is one thing more than another lor which I admire you, Theodore, it is 
your original discovery of the Ten Commandments." And John Hay noted in 
his diary: "Knox says the question of what is to become of Roosevelt after 
1908 is easily answered. He should be made a bishop." 

That the trend toward monopoly was getting out of hand was evident from 
the latest government studies, which showed that while in 1900 there were 185 
manufacturing combinations, or trusts, with a total capitalization of about 
three billion dollars, by 1904 their number had grown to 318 with a total 
capitalization of more than seven billion dollars, or approximately two fifths 
of the manufacturing capital in the nation. In theory these consolidations 
produced economic benefits, in practice such benefits tended to go neither to 
the consumer in terms of lower prices nor to the worker in terms of better pay, 
but to a handful of industrialists and financiers, who reaped tremendous profits 


replying to President Amador's 

and established increasing control over the economic life of the nation. By 1905 
the United States Steel Corporation, the biggest octopus of all, controlled no 
less than 170 subsidiary companies. 

In no field was the tendency toward consolidation greater than in transpor- 
tation, where at the time of Roosevelt's election six railway systems had ob- 
tained control of three quarters of the nation's railroad mileage without 
achieving any improvements in service, rates, or wages. In his message to Con- 
gress the President asked that teeth be put into the long-dormant Interstate 
Commerce Act by giving the Interstate Commerce Commission power to 
"summarily and effectively prevent the imposition of unjust or unreasonable 
rates." Meanwhile, under the terms of the Elkins Act of 1903 he insti- 
tuted suits against the nation's four biggest meat-packing companies for receiv- 
ing secret freight rebates at the expense of their competitors. A suit was also 
brought against the Standard Oil Company, which was accused of rebates 
totaling nearly one million dollars a year. 

The 1906 session of Congress saw the introduction of a bill by Representative 
William Hepburn of Iowa containing the provisions Roosevelt had demanded. 
The Hepburn Bill passed the House easily, but when it came before the Senate 
it was opposed by a powerful block of "Railway Senators/' The strategy of 
Senator Aldrich, the son-in-law of John D. Rockefeller, who led the fight 
against the bill, was to amend the rate-making process, make it cumbersome 
and costly, and subject it to review by the courts. To embarrass the President, 
"Pitchfork Ben" Tillman, a radical Southern Democrat whom Roosevelt dis- 
liked, was put in charge of the measure. 

For two months the Hepburn Bill was bitterly debated in the Senate. Sena- 
tor Foraker alone made eighty-six speeches against it. In the end it looked as 
though Roosevelt might win a complete victory over the "standpat" Repub- 
lican leadership; still, when the showdown came, he compromised rather than 
risk alienating the most powerful men in his own party. 

His compromise was branded a "betrayal," a "surrender," and a "sellout." 
Yet the Hepburn Bill as passed represented an important advance in railroad 
regulation. It provided for broader judicial review than Roosevelt wanted; but 
it gave the Interstate Commerce Commission power to set maximum rates for 
the first time; it provided stiff penalties for violation of Commission orders; it 
extended the Commission's authority over most aspects of railroading. 

And while Roosevelt battled for railroad regulation he also assailed the 
trusts, demanding that "all corporations engaged in interstate commerce 
should be under the supervision of the national government" and even sug- 
gesting that the Constitution should be amended to such purpose. For such a 
radical position he could find no support in Congress. Thus all he could do was 
to institute prosecutions under the Sherman Anti-Trust Act. 

The most dramatic of the President's victories over predatory business inter- 
ests was the federal meat-inspection bill. When it seemed that the meat packers 
might cripple it with amendments, Roosevelt released a portion of his exam- 
iners 9 report about the unsanitary conditions in the Chicago packing houses 


and threatened to publish the remainder if the packers refused to call off their 
lobbyists. His threat and the fact that meat sales in the country and abroad 
were already suffering from the bad publicity led to the passage of the bill. By 
its momentum it also forced favorable action on the Pure Food Bill, which had 
been gathering dust for some years in a House pigeonhole. Denounced by 
Senator Aldrich as an infringement on "the liberty of all the people of the 
United States," this bill provided the first effective controls over the widespread 
use of adulterants in foods, drugs, and liquors. 

The 1906 session of Congress, "the most ferocious, the most loquacious, and 
one of the most industrious" sessions on record, represented the high tide of 
Roosevelt's pressure on big business. As the booming prosperity of the century's 
early years had given way to a financial depression in 1907, financiers blamed 
the slump on the President's "undermining of public confidence." Roosevelt 
replied indignantly: "If trouble comes from having the light turned on, remem- 
ber that it is not really due to the light but to the misconduct which is exposed." 
Nothing, he declared, could "alter in the slightest degree my determination 
that for the remaining sixteen months these policies shall be persevered in 
unswervingly." To William Allen White he wrote: "If we meet hard times . . . 
I shall probably end my term of service as President under a more or less dark 
cloud of obloquy. If so, I shall be sorry, of course, but I shall neither regret 
what I have done nor alter my line of conduct in the least degree." Neverthe- 
less, the panic of 1907 made him slacken his attacks. 

Of economic and financial matters, Roosevelt had little knowledge. However, 
on the issue of conservation, where he assumed a comparable role as a pro- 
tector of the public interest against the private, he was an expert. Both 
his lifelong interest in nature and his firsthand acquaintance with the wilder- 
ness areas of the West contributed to an intense and unrelenting concern for 
the preservation of the nation's forest and water resources. He had the good 
fortune to have at his command the devoted services of many dedicated con- 
servationists, of whom the most able was Gifford Pinchot, the man who devised 
and executed much of the President's program. 

At the outset of Roosevelt's Presidency there was, for all practical purposes, 
no conservation policy. "The habit of deciding, whenever possible, in favor of 
private interests against the public welfare was firmly fixed," he wrote in his 
Autobiography. "The relation of the conservation of natural resources to the 
problems of national welfare and national efficiency had not yet dawned on 
the public mind." But by the time he left the White House, he had added 
150,000,000 acres to the national forests, had launched large-scale reforestation 
and irrigation programs serving more than 3,000,000 acres of the West, had 
pushed through legislation to check the wholesale depletion of mineral re- 
sources, and had brought to a halt the systematic looting of the public preserves 
by an unholy alliance of railroad operators, timber barons, and ranchers. 

The battle for conservation was less dramatic than the battles with Wall Street 
and the trusts, nevertheless it was part of the same crusade against exploitation 
by a predatory minority. Roosevelt's victories on this front were of lasting value. 




Cartoon by Zim in Judge at the time when Roose- 
velt's fight for railroad regulation got under way. 


The big stick in action against the Beef Trust, the Oil 
Trust, the Railroads, and "Everything In General." 


Roosevelt on his hobbyhorse marked Anti-Railroad 
Rebate Laws. Around the room the toys are labeled: 
Panama Canal, Cuban Treaty, Tariff Revision, New 
Immigration Laws, Reciprocity, Porto Rico, Chinese 
Immigration, Square Deal for the South, Trust 
Question, Venezuelan Troubles, Insurance Scare, Cut 
Government Expenditures pointing to the issues 
of the first four years of his administration. 

If the cartoon had been drawn four years later 
at the end of Roosevelt's term "in his own right" 



the artist could have added many more toys, so 
many more were Roosevelt's achievements and the 
important events in which he played a prominent 
part. There would have been labels on his negotia- 
tions for the Russo-Japanese peace treaty, on conser- 
vation and irrigation, on the administration of the 
Philippines, on his stand in the controversy with 
Japan, on simplified spelling, on nature fakers, on 
his quarrels with Mrs. Bellamy Storer and General 
Miles, on muckrakers and the Pure Food Bill, and 

a number of other related and unrelated subjects. 

Roosevelt was always doing things, always in the 
midst of things. "Whatever I think it is right for me 
to do, I do. I do the things that I believe ought to 
be done. And when I make up my mind to do 
a thing, I act." There was no doubt about it. 

One marvels at his versatility. There was hardly 
any subject under the sun about which he did not 
hand down an opinion. He was equally at home in 
discussing science, literature, history, philosophy. 




whose realistic novel The 
Jungle in 1906 led to in- 
vestigation of the Chicago 
meat-packing industry. 


whose history in McClure's 
of the Standard Oil Com- 
pany in 1 902 pioneered a 
new kind of journalism. 


The ruthlessness of modern finance, the corruption in 
business, and the graft in politics demanded correc- 
tive measures. Writers and journalists woke the coun- 
try to the machinations of great corporations and the 
rottenness in political life; with Samuel S. McClure's 
founding of a 15-cent magazine, the literature of such 
exposures found a home and a platform. The first 
successful attempt was Ida M. Tarbell's "History of 
the Standard Oil Company," which McClure's Maga- 
zine printed in 1902, shedding light on the abuses of 
that huge trust. Then came Lincoln Steffen's "Ene- 
mies of the Republic," a disclosure of graft in the 
government of the cities. As the circulation of 
McClure's rose, other magazines followed its lead. 
Their policy of exposure flourished, paving the way 
for many of Roosevelt's reforms. 

But when sensational magazines like Everybody's 
printed Thomas W. Lawson's vituperative "Frenzied 
Finance," or Cosmopolitan published David Graham 
Phillips's "The Treason of the Senate," Roosevelt felt 
that the writer went too far. He wanted to make it 
clear that he would not be a part of "the lunatic 
fringe" that rushes into the comet's tail of every re- 
form movement. In a speech on March 17, 1906, 
before the Gridiron Club, he quoted from Bunyan's 
Pilgrim's Progress about "the man with the muckrake 
. . . who could look no way but downward." The phrase 
stuck all expos6 writers became "muckrakers." 


whose Frenzied Finance re- 
vealed the manipulations 
of financiers in Amalga- 
mated Copper stock. 


whose disclosures on cor- 
ruption in local politics 
were contained in his vol- 
ume The Shame of the Cities. 


exposed dishonesty in 
rate-setting practices of 
the lines in his 1 906 book, 
The Railroads on Trial. 


uncovered the shady ac- 
tivities of the beef trust 
in The Greatest Trust in the 
World, published in 1905. 


When a commission, appointed by Roosevelt, re- 
ported "revolting" conditions in the Chicago packing 
houses, with "meat shovelled from filthy wooden 
floors, piled on tables rarely washed . . . gathering 
dirt, splinters, floor filth," public indignation forced 
the passing of a Meat Inspection bill. At about the 
same time, Upton Sinclair's novel The Jungle dram- 
atized the abuses in stockyards and packing houses, 
preparing a climate for the meat inspection bill. 


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The Reclamation Act of 1902 provided that pro- 
ceeds from the sales of public lands in sixteen West- 
ern states should go into a special irrigation fund. 
With the money, huge tracts of land were reclaimed, 
irrigated, and sold to settlers. In such a way, 
sands of acres of sagebrush-covered wasteland were 
turned into fertile agricultural areas a proud 
achievement of Roosevelt's irrigation policy. 


"When, at the beginning of my term of service as 
President,*' wrote Roosevelt, "... I took up the cause 
of conservation, I was already fairly well awake to 
the need of social and industrial justice; and from 
the outset we had in view, not only the preservation 
of natural resources, but the prevention of monopoly 
in natural resources, so that they should inhere in 
the people as a whole." In June 1902 the Reclama- 
tion Act was signed, which provided for irrigation in 
the West by the government, the cost to be repaid 

by the settlers and kept as a revolving fund for 
further work. During Roosevelt's administration al- 
most 150 million acres mostly timberland were 
added to the 45 million acres previously held as 
permanent government reserves, ah efficient forest 
service was organized, and sanctuaries were set up 
for the preservation of wildlife all in the face of 
constant opposition from Congress and people in 
the West who had been counting on using the land 
and its resources for their own personal profit. 


THE AMERICAN SAMSON. Delilah Roosevelt: "I must get these shears to work to- 
gether before I can do any hair-cutting." By J. S. Pughc in Puck, December 13, 1905. 

One of Roosevelt's greatest political battles was fought over the regulation of the railroads. 
He wanted fair rates for all railroad shippers without discrimination, and desired "to set 
up a moral standard." There was a mounting feeling in the country against the "rebates" 
of the railroads, given to powerful companies but denied to smaller ones, with hardly any 
two shippers paying the same rates. The system worked against the farmers and small 
businessmen and was grossly unjust. President Roosevelt asked Congress for a law which 
"shall summarily and effectively prevent the imposition of unjust and unreasonable rates." 


vell's cartoon in Puck, May 23, 1906, shows Roosevelt with Rockefeller and Rogers. 
On March 4, 1906, while the railroad regulation was being debated in the Senate, the 
President made public the report of the Bureau of Corporations on the Standard Oil Com- 
pany. This report revealed "that the Standard Oil Company has benefited enormously up 
almost to the present moment by secret rates" amounting to at least three quarters 
of a million a year. On March 18 the Senate finally passed the Hepburn Act, which 
strengthened the Interstate Commerce Commission's rate-making powers and gave it juris- 
diction over pipelines, Pullman operation, and other important transportation matters. 




The battle between Roosevelt and the Senate raged 
over the control of the railroad companies' rate-fix- 
ing power. Roosevelt demanded that his Interstate 
Commerce Commission be given "the power to re- 
vise rates and regulations." Senator Aldrich, the 
son-in-law of Rockefeller, leading the Senate oppo- 
sition, fought the President's contention. Aldrich 
pleaded for court decision about unfair rates which 
in the final outcome would have proven ineffective. 
But Roosevelt stood by his demand he battled 
manfully against the many-headed senatorial mon- 
ster (see cartoon by J. S. Pughe on the left) and 
won a victory. Though the radical provisos of the 
Hepburn bill were modified by the Senate, the 
passing of it represented a great step forward in the 
regulation of the railroads. Still, the fundamental 
issue was not solved to determine rates through 
the evaluation of railroad properties and the cost of 
service. That was left until a much later day. 




In 1907 the booming prosperity of the Roosevelt 
years gave way to severe financial unrest. Those who 
opposed Roosevelt pointed a finger at the President 
who "undermined public confidence." Edward 
Harriman told reporters: "I would hate to tell you 
to whom I think you ought to go for an explanation 
of all this." And Roosevelt retorted that certain 
malefactors of great wealth continued "to bring 
about as much financial stress as possible" to em- 
barrass the government. Both Roosevelt and Harri- 
man indulged in partisan recriminations. The causes 
of the economic unrest lay deeper it was neither 
caused by the government nor by the malefactors of 
great wealth; it had been a world-wide phenomenon. 

The crisis reached its climax in the third week of 
October when the Knickerbocker Trust Company 
of New York failed and numerous other banks trem- 
bled on the brink of disaster. On October 22, Secre- 
tary of Treasury Cortelyou hurried to New York, 
where he met with J. P. Morgan and other bankers. 
He assured the financiers that the Treasury would 
deposit $25,000,000 of its surplus funds in the New 
York national banks; after this Morgan, Harriman, 
Rockefeller, and others invested even larger funds in 
institutions which they deemed worthy of saving. 

Early in November it became evident that the 
brokerage house of Moore & Schley was in grave 
difficulties because it held as collateral $5,000,000 
worth of stock of the Tennessee Coal and Iron Com- 
pany which it was unable to turn into cash. Morgan 
and his colleagues, who at this time seemed to rule 
over the nation's financial policies, came up with the 
idea that the United States Steel Corporation should 
purchase the Tennessee Coal and Iron Company 
and thus validate its securities. 

Elbert H, Gary and Henry C. Frick, the president 
and a director of U. S. Steel, rushed to Washington 
to sec Roosevelt. Early Monday morning Novem- 
ber 4 they saw the President and told him that in 
an effort to save "a certain business concern" and 
stem the tide, they would have to purchase the stock 
of Tennessee Coal and Iron for $40,000,000, but 
would do it only if the government would give assur- 
ance that the merger would not lead to prosecution 
under the Sherman Act. 

Although the merger increased U. S. Steel's share 
of the market from 50 per cent to 60 per cent, 
Roosevelt acquiesced. His assurance was telephoned 
to New York, where Morgan and his partners 
awaited the news. Within minutes the sale was 
made, and the stock market catastrophe avoided. 


A subsequent congressional investigation revealed 
that Judge Gary misrepresented the situation to the 
President and that the Morgan interests bought the 



Tennessee Coal and Iron because it was a bargain 
at $40,000,000 and not because they desired to save 
Moore & Schley. But by then the financial panic 

of 1907 was long over, and nobody could do any- 
thing about the hundreds of millions that Morgan 
and his colleagues had made on the transaction. 






Roosevelt's good offices on behalf of Japan were little appreciated in that 
country. The Japanese were at first grateful for his bringing the representatives 
of the two warring nations to a conference, but at the conclusion of the peace 
treaty they became resentful because they were not able to secure indemnity 
payments from Russia. For this they blamed Roosevelt and the American 
people. In September 1905 there were severe anti- American riots in Japan. 

Friction between the two countries was further inflamed when, ten months 
later, Japanese seal-hunting poachers raided the Pribilof Islands off Alaska and 
were driven back by an American patrol. Five Japanese lost their lives in the 

Nor was the feeling of Americans toward Japan friendlier. There was a steady 
anti-Japanese agitation on the West Coast, where infiltration of Japanese im- 
migrants caused fears that the cheap Oriental labor would undermine the 
standard of American living. Newspapers printing lurid tales of the "Yellow 
Peril" and stirring the readers to near-hysteria fomented these flames of hate. 

When on October 11, 1906, the San Francisco Board of Education issued 
an order excluding Japanese pupils from the city's school system, matters came 
to a head; war between the two nations became a possibility. To the emphatic 
protest of the Japanese government, Roosevelt replied on October 26: "Thru 
the Department of Justice we are already taking steps in San Francisco to see 
if we cannot remedy the matter thru the courts. . . ." And he promised: "I shall 
exert all the power I have under the Constitution to protect the rights of the 
Japanese who are here, and shall deal with the subject at length in my message 
to Congress." 

To his son Kermit he wrote: "I am being horribly bothered about the 
Japanese business. The infernal fools in California, and especially in San Fran- 
cisco, insult the Japanese recklessly, and in the event of war it will be the Nation 
as a whole which will pay the consequences. However I hope to keep things 
straight. I am perfectly willing that this Nation should fight any nation if it 
has got to, but I would loathe to see it forced into a war in which it was wrong." 

His eyes on the future, he told Senator Eugene Hale that if Japan is "suffi- 
ciently irritated and humiliated by us she will get to accept us instead of Russia 
as the national enemy whom she will ultimately have to fight; and under such 
circumstances her concentration and continuity of purpose, and the exceedingly 
formidable character of her army and navy, make it necessary to reckon very 


seriously with her. It seems to me that all of this necessitates our having a defi- 
nite policy with regard to her; a policy of behaving with absolute good faith, 
courtesy and justice to her on the one hand, and on the other, of keeping our 
navy in such shape as to make it a risky thing for Japan to go into war with 
us " 

After lengthy negotiations with public leaders in San Francisco and the 
government in Tokyo, a compromise was effected by which San Francisco 
agreed to rescind its segregation policy and Tokyo agreed to prohibit the influx 
of Japanese laborers to the United States, limiting emigration mainly to mer- 
chants and students. Furthermore, Roosevelt promised to push through Con- 
gress legislation barring immigration of Japanese laborers from Hawaii, Mexico, 
and Canada. Unhappily, the compromise did not mark the end of the troubles. 
Agitation against the Japanese continued, and in the early summer of 1907 
these feelings erupted into riots in which Japanese restaurants and restaurant 
keepers were attacked in San Francisco. 

Roosevelt held that the San Franciscans' insult of the Japanese was wanton 
and foolish, therefore "everything we can do must be done to remedy the 
wrongs complained of/ 5 To Cabot Lodge he wrote: "I shall continue to do 
everything I can by politeness and consideration to the Japs to offset the worse 
than criminal stupidity of the San Francisco mob, the San Francisco press, and 
such papers as the New York Herald. I do not believe we shall have war; but 
it is no fault of the yellow press if we do not have it. The Japanese seem to 
have about the same proportion of prize jingo fools that we have." 

The President received alarming reports through his diplomatic pipelines. 
According to one account, a Japanese diplomat in Russia declared that his 
country was ready to move against the Philippine Islands, Alaska, and even 
the Pacific Coast. According to other reports from the British Intelligence 
service, Japan was preparing war against the United States. From Kaiser 
Wilhelm II came word that 10,000 Japanese soldiers, disguised as laborers, 
were already in Mexico, ready to move into United States territory. 

Throughout the crisis Roosevelt remained calm, maintaining a consistently 
conciliatory attitude toward Japan. At the same time, he was ready to show 
that his conciliatory attitude should not be interpreted as a sign of American 
weakness, for he was quite convinced (as he explained to Secretary of State 
Root) that "the only thing which will prevent war is the Japanese feeling that 
we shall not be beaten." He decided to send the American battle fleet on a 
trip around the world to demonstrate the nation's naval prowess to the world 
in general and to Japan in particular. 

Although the Japanese crisis was the principal motive for the battle fleet's 
voyage, it was by no means the only one. "In the first place," Roosevelt wrote 
to Root, "I think it will have a pacific effect to show that it can be done; and 
in the next place, after talking thoroughly over the situation with the naval 
board I became convinced that it was absolutely necessary for us in time of 
peace to see just what we could do in the way of putting a big battle fleet in 
the Pacific, and not make the experiment in time of war." Later he wrote in 
his Autobiography: "It seemed to me evident that such a voyage would greatly 


benefit the Navy itself; would arouse popular interest in and enthusiasm for 
the Navy; and would make foreign nations accept as a matter of course that 
our fleet should from time to time be gathered in the Pacific, just as from time 
to time it was gathered in the Atlantic, and that its presence in one ocean was 
no more to be accepted as a mark of hostility to any Asiatic power than its 
presence in the Atlantic was to be accepted as a mark of hostility to any 
European power." 

The fleet's voyage was an immense undertaking; the complexity of its 
organization and supply enormous. Foreign naval experts were firm in their 
belief that it could not be done. At home vigorous objections were raised, espe- 
cially from the Eastern Seaboard, where people became alarmed at the removal 
of the fleet from the waters of the Atlantic. In the Senate the chairman of the 
Committee on Naval Affairs announced that money for the voyage would not 
be appropriated, to which the President replied that he already had enough 
funds to send the fleet to the Pacific, and that if Congress declined to appro- 
priate additional funds, the fleet would be left there. "I will tolerate no assault 
upon the Navy or upon the honor of the country," Roosevelt said, u nor will I 
permit anything so fraught with menace as the usurpation by any clique of 
Wall Street Senators of my function as Commander-in-Chief." For the success 
or failure of the undertaking he accepted full responsibility. "I determined on 
the move without consulting the Cabinet, precisely as I took Panama without 
consulting the Cabinet. A council of war never fights, and in a crisis the duty 
of the leader is to lead and not to take refuge behind the generally timid wisdom 
of a multitude of councillors." 

The fleet, composed of sixteen battleships and lesser vessels, with crews 
totaling some twelve thousand officers and men, steamed out of Hampton 
Roads on December 16, 1907. The fears that the voyage would bring Japanese 
retaliation were dispelled when Japan extended an invitation for the naval 
officers and men to visit her shores. By the time the ships had sailed from Japan 
to the Philippines and back home through the Mediterranean, the war clouds 
that had looked so ominous a few months before had disappeared. 

On Washington's birthday of 1909, sixteen months after they had set out 
on their historic trip, the battleships returned to Hampton Roads an 
occasion of national pride and rejoicing. Once again the President, now but 
ten days from the end of his reign, watched the proceedings from the deck of 
the Mayflower. "Over a year has passed since you steamed out of this harbor, 
and over the world's rim," he told the officers and men of Admiral Sperry's 
flagship, "and this morning the hearts of all who saw you thrilled with pride 
as the hulls of the mighty warships lifted above the horizon. . . . We welcome 
you home to the country whose good repute among nations has been raised 
by what you have done." Later, to the admirals and skippers assembled in the 
Mayflower cabin, he put his deep pride into more concrete terms. "Isn't it 
magnificent?" he said. "Nobody after this will forget that the American coast 
is on the Pacific as well as on the Atlantic." 



THE TEST CASE. When the nine-year-old Japa- 
nese Keikichi Aoki was refused admission by Miss 
M. E. Dean, Principal of the Reading Primary 
School in San Francisco, the federal government 
brought suit against the San Francisco Board of 
Education. Roosevelt wrote Elihu Root that the suit 
"should be prest as rapidly as possible." The prosecu- 
tion was later abandoned when the United States 
reached a "Gentlemen's Agreement" with Japan. 


This cartoon by Louis M. Glackens in Puck on 
October 23, 1907, alludes to President Roosevelt's 
contention that "the war talk is due entirely to 
newspapers, which seek to increase their sales, and 
which for political reasons attack the government." 



After the conclusion of the Russo-Japanese peace 
treaty in Portsmouth, relationships between Japan 
and the United States deteriorated, as Japan mis- 
takenly believed that America had blocked their 
demand for indemnity payments from Russia. In 
anti-American rioting at Tokyo, four American 
churches were burned by the enraged mob. 

The feeling against Japan in the United States 
especially on the West Coastwas not friendlier. 
The agitation in California against the Japanese 

V . l^fi$^'$?i 


mounted, and Hearst's San Francisco Examiner 
fanned the discontent with its "Yellow Peril" articles. 
Things came to a head in October 1906 when the 
San Francisco Board of Education excluded Japanese 
pupils from the city's school system. The Japanese 
government protested against this as a violation of 
the Japanese- American Treaty of 1894. Roosevelt 
felt that Japan was not treated fairly. "I am being 
horribly bothered about the Japanese business," 
wrote he to his son Kermit. "The infernal fools in 


California, and especially in San Francisco, insult 
the Japanese recklessly, and in the event of war it 
will be the Nation as a whole which will pay the 

The dispute ended in a compromise; San Francisco 
agreed to rescind its segregation policy, and Japan 
prohibited the influx of Japanese laborers to the 
United States. Still the agitation against the "Yellow 
Peril" had not come to an end; it erupted again 
a year later, with severe rioting in San Francisco. 


rendered to peace" was Roosevelt's comment about 
his ordering the fleet around the world. Sixteen ves- 
sels under Rear Admiral Robley D. Evans left on 
December 16, 1907, with Roosevelt watching their 
departure from the Mayflower. The fleet's voyage had 

a twofold purpose: (1) to impress Japan that America 
would not be intimidated; (2) to create sentiment in 
Congress for increased naval expenditures. Both aims 
were realized. Japan did not shoot at the American 
vessels, but feted the officers and men, and Con- 
gress appropriated funds for two new battleships. 




"There are plenty of people who really want me to run for a third term who, 
if I did run, would feel very much disappointed in me and would feel that I 
had come short of the ideal they had formed of me," wrote Roosevelt to his 
son Kermit. Regardless of pressures, he would not renege on the promise given 
after his election. He would not be a candidate or accept another nomination. 

Curiously enough, the economic setbacks and the increasing hostility of 
Congress had increased the people's admiration for him. The New York Times, 
polling newspaper editors across the nation, reported that he was "stronger 
with the people than ever before." The third-term tradition, said the Times, 
"will not in the slightest degree avail against the wave of popular favor that 
now promises to make Mr. Roosevelt the candidate of next year. With 
the spirit he has invoked and stirred, tradition counts for nothing." 

Determined to be "a full president right up to the end," Roosevelt's power 
over Congress nonetheless became weak as his reign was nearing its close. 
During the congressional session which began at the end of 1907, he sent a total 
of twenty messages to Capitol Hill, and most of them were disregarded by the 
lawmakers. A year later, at the "lame duck session," the struggle between the 
executive and legislative branches of the government descended to the level of 
childish bickering when Roosevelt asked the repeal of an act which, among 
other things, forbade the Secret Service to investigate the affairs of Congress- 
men. The House, by the overwhelming vote of 212 to 35, rejected the presi- 
dential message a stinging rebuke to the President. 

As Congress became less receptive to Presidential proposals, the suggestions 
themselves became more radical. Because of his own growing disenchantment 
with the leaders of the business community, and in response to public unrest 
resulting from the financial panic, Roosevelt came forward with a series of 
boldly progressive pronouncements. He argued that both an income and an 
inheritance tax "should be part of our system of federal taxation." He vigor- 
ously criticized the Supreme Court for invalidating the Employers' Liability 
Act of 1906 and reversing the $29,000,000 fine that had been levied against 
Standard Oil for accepting railroad rebates. And he sent Congress an outspoken 
message urging sharp restrictions on "gambling in the stock market," legisla- 
tion allowing the Interstate Commerce Commission to determine the physical 
valuation of railroads as a means toward more comprehensive rate-making, 
and limitations on the use of injunctions against labor unions. 

It was in this message that the President described as his aim "the moral re- 
generation of the business world." The economic distress, he argued, was due not 


to any anti-business policy in the White House, as had been alleged, but rather 
to "the speculative folly and flagrant dishonesty of a few men of great wealth." 

When speculation about a third term had become persistent, presidential 
secretary William Loeb told his chief that the only way to squelch such rumors 
was to choose a successor. In other words, the President would have to run a 
candidate against himself in order to be sure that the Republican convention 
would not find itself so divided between competing candidacies that it would 
stampede him for a third term. 

Roosevelt's preference as political heir would have been Elihu Root, his 
Secretary of State. "I would walk on my hands and knees from the White House 
to the Capitol to see Root made President," he had once told a friend; but he 
knew that Root, who was a former corporation lawyer, could never be chosen. 
Thus he turned to the faithful William Howard Taft, the man who had served 
him as governor-general of the Philippines, as Secretary of War, and as an in- 
valuable trouble-shooter and envoy-at-large. The affable Taft had great admin- 
istrative abilities, but no political acumen and none of Roosevelt's crusading 
zeal. He would have preferred to be on the Supreme Court rather than to 
become President. Yet persuaded by his ambitious wife, his half-brother, and 
other friends he kept himself available for the Presidency by declining all 
offers of a judicial appointment. 

Early in 1908, Roosevelt started to organize the campaign for Taft's nomi- 
nation, channeling abundant publicity toward the heir-apparent and even 
employing his patronage power to ensure the selection of Taft- pledged dele- 
gates. By the spring of that year, control over the Republican convention was 
assured, and Roosevelt felt that "all opposition to Taft had died down." Still 
he remained cautious; he would take no chances. He saw to it that his friend 
Senator Cabot Lodge was installed as chairman of the convention and would 
keep the reins in his hand. He knew that if Taft failed to win on the first ballot, 
"there is a chance of a stampede to me, and if it really gets underway nothing 
that I could do would stop it." Such a scare came when, the day before the 
balloting, Senator Lodge's reference to Roosevelt as "the best abused and the 
most popular man in the United States today" provoked forty-nine minutes 
of frenzied cheering. Lodge could restore order over the convention only by 
warning the delegates that * anyone who attempts to use his name as a candi- 
date for the Presidency impugns both his sincerity and his good faith." 

The convention, bowing to Roosevelt's will, nominated Taft. They would 
have nominated anyone whom their idol suggested. 

The campaign was dull. Taft was not a dynamic candidate, and William 
Jennings Bryan, chosen by the Democrats to oppose him as a third-time 
nominee could no longer arouse the interest of the electorate. Roosevelt, who 
had promised not to be a "busybody," was puzzled and disappointed because 
Taft "does not arouse the enthusiasm which his record and personality 
warranted us in believing he would arouse." He urged him: "Hit them hard, 
old man!" an admonition of little avail. Some excitement was injected in the 
contest when William Randolph Hearst, running as a splinter candidate on 
the Independence Party platform, made public a series of letters apparently 


proving that Senator Forakcr had been on the payroll of Standard Oil Com- 
pany. Roosevelt, wanting "to put a little vim into the campaign by making a 
publication of my own," attacked Foraker sharply, even though Taft wondered 
whether it was fair to "hit a man when he is down." 

The result of the election was a Republican victory, and great victory for 
Roosevelt. His influence was so strong that the people, trusting him, voted for 
his hand-picked successor. Taft won with 321 electoral votes against Bryan's 
162. "The first letter I wish to write is to you," came a message from the 
President-elect to Roosevelt, "because you have always been the chief agent 
in working out the present state of affairs, and my selection and election are 
chiefly your work." 

The election brought the exciting years in the White House to a close. An 
English journalist asked Roosevelt about his future plans and he answered: 
"When people have spoken to me as to what America should do with its 
ex-Presidents, I have always answered that there was one ex-President as to 
whom they need not concern themselves in the least, because I would do for 
myself. It would be to me a personally unpleasant thing to be pensioned and 
given some honorary position. I emphatically do not desire to clutch at the 
fringe of departing greatness." His plans were made. He had agreed to write 
twelve articles a year at $1000 apiece for The Outlook, a weekly journal of 
opinion. He would go big-game hunting in Africa "my last chance for some- 
thing in the nature of a 'great adventure.' " And upon his return he would fight 
for political, social, and industrial reform "just as I have been fighting for it 
for the twenty-eight years that I have been in politics." 

Parting from the Presidency was not an easy task for a man who, by his own 
testimony, had "enjoyed it to the full." On the last day of December in 1908 
he said in a note to Taft: "Ha! Ha! You are making up your Cabinet. / in a 
lighthearted way have spent the morning testing the rifles for my African trip. 
Life has its compensations!" But the regrets were at least as great as the antici- 
pations. On March 1, 1909, he gave a luncheon to his "Tennis Cabinet," and 
when he offered a fond farewell toast to the thirty-one guests who had been 
his closest and most devoted comrades through the previous seven and one half 
years, many of them wept unashamedly. Three days later, on the eve of the 
inaugural, President-elect and Mrs. Taft were guests at a dinner which Taft 
remembered as "that funeral." 

Yet in a letter to his son Kermit, Roosevelt spoke cheerfully about leaving the 
Presidency. "I have had a great run for my money," he said, "and I should have 
liked to stay in as President if I had felt it was right for me to do so; but there 
are many compensations about going, and Mother and I are in the curious 
and very pleasant position of having enjoyed the White House more than any 
other President and his wife whom I recall, and yet being entirely willing to 
leave it, and looking forward to a life of interest and happiness after we leave." 



"a brave peacock" in the Roosevelt language, who 
clashed with the President when he voiced an opin- 
ion on the findings of a Naval Court of Inquiry. The 
Court, investigating the conduct of Rear Admirals 
William T. Sampson and Winfield S. Schley at 
the battle of Santiago, found Schley guilty of 
errors in judgment. Admiral Dewey, one of the 
judges, dissented. At this point General Miles, who 
had no connection with the inquiry and wjhose opin- 
ion was not asked, entered the fray, declaring that 
he would rather take the judgment of Admiral 
Dewey than that of the final finding of the Naval 
Court of Inquiry. Elihu Root, the Secretary of War, 
got furious. It was not Milcs's business to criticize 
the Court's finding. Such behavior was "subversive 
of discipline." Root consulted Roosevelt, who ap- 
proved his suggestion to censure Miles. The General 
hurried to the White House to defend his action, but 
the President told him bluntly that his conduct had 
"been not merely silly but insubordinate and un- 
military." Miles, soon to be forced into retirement, 
left the meeting a broken man. Roosevelt had never 
liked the General, holding him responsible for some 
of the mismanagement in the Spanish-American War. 


a close friend of the Roosevelts and a meddlesome 
woman. As wife of the American Ambassador in 
Vienna, she worked relentlessly to have Archbishop 
Ireland of St. Paul, Minnesota, elevated to Cardinal, 
inferring to the Vatican that this was the wish of 
President Roosevelt as well. When in March 1906 
she desired to see the Pope as the accredited agent 
of the American government "to secure a Cardinal's 
hat for Archbishop Ireland," Roosevelt's temper 
flared. Members of the Cabinet urged him to recall 
Ambassador Storer at once, but, reluctant to dismiss 
the man who had once helped him to secure the 
post of Assistant Secretary of the Navy, the Presi- 
dent sent a letter to the Ambassador and included a 
note for his wife. In this he asked a written promise 
that she would no longer interfere in diplomatic 
matters. The Storers, hurt and angry, left the letter 
unanswered. Roosevelt wrote once more; and when 
the second communication was disregarded, he de- 
manded the Ambassador's resignation. Some months 
later the Storers issued a pamphlet in which they 
printed some of Roosevelt's letters to them, where- 
upon Roosevelt released many more letters which 
showed that his behavior in the matter was correct. 



with whom Roosevelt disagreed over the Negro 
troops' dismissal because of the Brownsville affair. 

On the nighl of August 14, 1906, shooting broke 
out at Brownsville, Texas, in which one man was 
killed, two men were wounded, allegedly shot by 
men belonging to three all-Negro companies sta- 
tioned at Fort Brown. When none of the soldiers 
would confess, the President gave his authorization 
for the dishonorable discharge of all three companies. 

In the Senate, Foraker attacked Roosevelt and his 
unjust order, claiming it was based on insufficient 
and false information. Though Roosevelt explained 
that "the opposition to me on Brownsville was simply 
a cloak to cover antagonism . . . about trusts, swol- 
len fortunes and the like," this was not the case. 

At a Gridiron Club dinner in Washington on Jan- 
uary 26, 1907, Roosevelt and Foraker faced each 
other and made bitter speeches. To his son-in-law 
Roosevelt wrote: "That scoundrel, Foraker, is doing 
all the damage he can with the negroes. ... A 
blacker wrong . . . than Foraker and his friends have 
committed it would not be possible to imagine." 

But later, during the Barnes trial, Roosevelt lauded 
Foraker as an honest man who had his respect. 


the railroad man, for years had friendly relations 
with Roosevelt. The two clashed when a personal 
letter of Harriman was printed in the New York 
World on April 2, 1907, regarding the 1904 election. 

In his letter to a friend, which was sold to the 
newspaper for $150, Harriman said that in the fall 
of 1904 Roosevelt "told me that he understood the 
campaign could not be carried on without sufficient 
money, and asked me if I would help them in raising 
the necessary funds." Harriman was ready to collect 
the funds if Chauncey Depew, whose re-election to 
another Senate term split the Republican ranks, 
could "be taken care of in some other way." Roose- 
velt supposedly promised to name Depew as Ambas- 
sador to France, whereupon Harriman contributed 
850,000 for the campaign and brought in another 
$200,000. But after the Republicans won the election, 
Roosevelt would not keep his side of the bargain. 

Roosevelt retorted that this was not so, charged 
Harriman with lying, and heaped his choicest epi- 
thets on the unfortunate railroad man. He emphati- 
cally stated that he "never requested Mr. Harriman 
to raise a dollar for the Presidential campaign of 
1 904," and disavowed any promise to appoint Depew. 



"First as to Tolstoy's immorality. Have you ever 
read his Kreutzer Sonata . . . ?" he asked Lawrence 
Abbott. "The man who wrote that was a sexual and 
a moral pervert. It is as unhealthy a book,as vicious 
in its teaching to the young, as Elinor Glyn's Three 
Weeks or any other piece of pornographic literature 
I think that the love of the really happy husband and 
wife ... is the loftiest and most ennobling influence that 
comes into the life of any man or woman. . . . The 
cheapest . . . and most repulsive cynicism is that which 
laughs at, or describes as degraded, this relation." 


"Of course the net result of Zola's writings has been 
evil. Where one man has gained from them a shud- 
dering horror at existing wrong which has impelled 
him to try to right that wrong, a hundred have 
simply had the lascivious, the beast side of their 
natures strengthened and intensified by them." 



"When Dante deals with the crimes which he most 
abhorred, simony and barratry, he flails offenders of 
his age who were of the same type as those who in 
our days flourish by political or commercial corrup- 
tion; and he names his offenders, both those just 
dead and those still living, and puts them, popes 
and politicians alike, in hell. There have been trust 
magnates and politicians and editors and magazine 
writers in our own country whose lives and deeds 
were no more edifying than those of the men who 
lie in the third and the fifth chasm of the eighth 
circle of the Inferno; yet for a poet to name those 
men would be condemned as an instance of shock- 
ing taste. ... I must say I should thoroughly enjoy 
having a Dante write of a number of our present-day 
politicians, labor leaders, and Wall Street people! 
When he came to deal with the worst offenders among 
our newspaper editors and magazine writers, I hope 
he would not dignify them by putting them in a 
circle of flame, but leave them in the circles of pitch 
and of filth." 


"You will ... be amused to hear that at last, when 
fifty years old, I have come into my inheritance in 
Shakespeare. I never before really cared for more 
than one or two of his plays; but for some inexplica- 
ble reason the sealed book was suddenly opened to 
me on this trip. ... I still balk at three or four of 
Shakespeare's plays; but most of them I have read 
or am reading over and over again. . . ." 


"... a warped, although a rugged, genius of Ameri- 
can poetry. . . . 

"Of all the poets of the nineteenth century, Walt 
Whitman was the only one who dared use the 
Bowery that is, use anything that was striking and 
vividly typical of the humanity around him as 
Dante used the ordinary humanity of his day; and 
even Whitman was not quite natural in doing so, for 
he always felt that he was defying the conventions 
and prejudices of his neighbors, and his self- 
consciousness made him a little defiant. . . . Whit- 
man wrote of homely things and every-day men, and 
of their greatness, but his art was not equal to his 
power and his purpose. ..." 


"He is more than simply sweet and wholesome. His 
ballad-like poetry, such as 'The Saga of King Olaf,' 


'The Discovery of the North Cape,' 'Belisarius,' and 
others, especially of the sea, have it seems to me the 
strength as well as the simplicity that marks Walter 
Scott and the old English ballad writers. . . . 

"Longfellow's love of peace was profound; but he 
was a man, and a wise man, and he knew that cow- 
ardice does not promote peace, and that even the 
great evil of war may be a less evil than cringing to 


"Oliver Wendell Holmes, of course, is the laughing 
philosopher, the humorist at his very highest, even if 
we use the word 'humor' only in its most modern and 
narrow sense." 


"I like his literary essays; but what a real mugwump 
he gradually became, as he let his fastidiousness, his 
love of ease and luxury, and his shrinking from the 
necessary roughness of contact with the world, grow 
upon him! I think his sudden painting of Dante as 
a mugwump is deliciously funny. I suppose that his 
character was not really strong, and that he was 
permanently injured by association with the Charles 
Eliot Norton type, and above all by following that 
impossible creature, Godkin." 


"It seems to me that all good Americans should feel 
a peculiar pride in Whittier, exactly because he com- 
bined the power of expression and the great gift of 
poetry, with a flaming zeal for righteousness which 
made him a leader in matters of the spirit no less than 
of the intellect." 


"It may be that I have helped Long from the 
financial standpoint, for that lying scoundrel is too 
shamelessly dishonest to mind the scorn of honest 
men if his infamy adds to his receipts; and of course it 
advertises him to be in a controversy with me. But I 
think I have pretty well destroyed his credit with all 
decent men of even moderate intelligence." 


"I hunted him up, found he was having a very hard 
time, and put him in the Treasury Department. I 
think he will do his work all right, but I am free to 
say that he was put in less with a view to the good 
of the government service than with a view to help- 
ing American letters." And he wrote to him: "I ex- 
pect you to think poetry first and Treasury second." 


The Russian writer came to the United States in 
April 1906 to raise funds in the cause of Russian 
emancipation. In New York he was expelled from 
his hotel for sharing his rooms with Madame Andre- 
iava, a Russian actress who was not his legal wife. 
When Gorky asked for an interview, Roosevelt re- 
fused to see him. He wrote sharply: "Gorky in his 
domestic relations seems to represent with nice exact- 
ness the general continental European revolutionary 
attitude, which in governmental matters is a revolt 
against order as well as against tyranny, and in 
domestic matters is a revolt against the ordinary 
decencies and moralities even more than against 
conventional hypocrisies and cruelties." 


"It always interests me about Dickens to think how 
much first-class work he did and how almost all of 
it was mixed up with every kind of cheap, second- 
rate matter. I am very fond of him. There are innu- 
merable characters that he has created which sym- 
bolize vices, virtues, follies, and the like . . . therefore 
I think the wise thing to do is simply to skip the 
bosh and twaddle and vulgarity and untruth, and 
get the benefit out of the rest. Of course one funda- 
mental difference between Thackeray and Dickens 
is that Thackeray was a gentleman and Dickens 
was not. But a man might do some mighty good 
work and not be a gentleman in any sense." 


Kemble in Collier's Weekly in September 1 906, shortly after Roosevelt 
tried to introduce spelling reforms in printing government documents. 


This was one of Roosevelt's most 
amusing controversies. Brander 
Matthews of Columbia University 
persuaded him to join the ranks 
of the spelling reformers, and 
Roosevelt took up the fight at 
once. At first the suggested 
changes were moderate and em- 
braced only 300 words. For ex- 
ample: honour, parlour, labour 
were to be written without the 
"u." Programme and catalogue 
were to be program and catalog. 
The "re" in theatre, centre, sabre 
was to be reversed; instead of 
cheque and comptroller, it would 
be check and controller. In some 
words like surprise and compro- 
mise, u s" was to become "z." 
Double letters in instill, fulfill, 
distill were eliminated, whiskey 
shortened to whisky, mamma to 
mama. The changes most resisted 
were "tho," "thoro," and "thru." 
"Nothing escapes Mr. Ruce- 
velt," wrote "Marse Henry" 
Waterson in the Louisville Courier. 
"No subject is tu hi for him to 
takl, nor tu lo for him to notis." 


Elihu Root could take the lib- 
erty of teasing the President by 
sending him a note in simplified 
spelling, not long after Roosevelt 
ordered the Public Printer to use 
new spellings for 300 words. 
When Congress reassembled 
and the President sent his annual 
message in the new spelling, the 
storm broke. The lawmakers 
adopted a resolution forbidding 
the printing of public documents 
in orthography not accepted by 
standard dictionaries. After the 
rebuke, Roosevelt withdrew his 
order but promised to continue 
using the new spelling in his 
own private correspondence. 


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A "POINT TO POINT" WALK in Washington's Rock Creek Park was a part of 
Roosevelt's regular exercise. "Over and through, never around" was his motto, and 
those who accompanied him could barely keep up with the pace he set over jutting 
rocks and through swollen streams. Once his heart gave out while climbing, and 
his companions had to pull him up a cliff and wait forty minutes for him to recover. 



THE "BEARDED LADY" was Roosevelt's descrip- 
tion of Charles Evans Hughes, who would have 
liked to receive the Republican nomination in 1908. 


Roosevelt once wrote to Taft. But he warned his 
friend of too much publicity on the golf course. 

by Joseph Keppler in Puck on April 24, 1907, which 
made America chuckle. In it "John Alden" Roose- 
velt speaks for "Miles Standish" Taft, and Priscilla 
asks, "Why don't you speak for yourself, Theodore?" 
Still, no decision was reached. 

Early one morning a year later, Roosevelt's secre- 
tary, William Loeb, Jr., told the President that "we 
must have a candidate. If things continue to drift 
along as now, our friends may lose control." Roose- 
velt replied that the man whom he would like to see 


as his successor was Elihu Root, the Secretary of War. 
"I would walk on my hands and knees from the 
White House to the Capitol to see Root made Presi- 
dent," he once remarked. But when Loeb came to 
Root with the message, Root said: "Please tell the 
President that I appreciate deeply every word, but I 
cannot be a candidate. It would mean a fight in the 
convention and I could not be elected. I've thought 
it all out. Thank the President, but tell him I am 
not in the running." 

After Root's refusal Roosevelt told Loeb: "We had 

better turn to Taft. See Taft and tell him of our talk 
today tell him all of it so he will know my mind." 
Taft accepted Roosevelt's endorsement with joy. 
And when the Republican Nominating Convention 
met in Chicago, the delegates ratified the President's 
choice on the first ballot. In the elefction Taft defeated 
William Jennings Bryan, whom the Democrats nom- 
inated for the third time, and Eugene V. Debs, also 
a third-time contender for the Socialist party. Taft's 
popular vote was 7,677,788; Bryan's, 6,407,982; 
Debs's, 420,890; and Chapin's, 252,511. 



Bernard Partridge, who four and a half decades before had assailed Abraham Lincoln in 
Punch, now used his sharp pen against Theodore Roosevelt. In the biting cartoon "The 
Heir Presumptive," which the English weekly printed on June 17, 1908, President Roosevelt 
tells Taft: "There, sonny, I've fixed you up so they won't know the difference between us." 


ALONE I DIDN'T DO IT! is the title of this superb Partridge cartoon in Punch on 
November 11, 1908, after the news reached England that William Howard Taft had been 
elected to the American Presidency. Taft defeated William Jennings Bryan, the three-time 
Democratic candidate, with 321 electoral votes against his opponent's 162. In the caption 
under the drawing, the breathless but triumphant President-elect says: "Thank you, Teddy!" 


IT Will 




"IT WILL END THIS SIDE UP," a cartoon by "HIS FAVORITE AUTHOR," a cartoon by Lowry 
Westerman in the Ohio State Journal, indicating how the in the Chicago Chronicle. Roosevelt put this one in a 
American people felt about Roosevelt and Congress, frame and hung it on his study wall at Oyster Bay. 



President Roosevelt on February 12, 1909, journeyed to Hodgenville, Ky., where he 
spoke in honor of "the mightiest of the mighty men who mastered the mighty days." 



FAREWELL, TEDDY! Weeping newspaper corre- 
spondents say good-by to the President. They know 
that never again will they have such good copy. 

ruary 22, 1909, at Hampton Roads, Va., Roosevelt 
welcomed the fleet from its voyage around the world. 
"Not until some American fleet returns victorious 
from a great sea battle," prophesied he, "will there 
be another such homecoming and such a sight." 


bitter storm blew on March 4, 1909; 
snow and ice cut Washington off from 

the rest of the world The weather was so severe be a cold day when I became President of the U.S." 

rSsrJrSnt= tMttjrasK? 


Part 4: 


Theodore Roosevelt poses with President- 



William Howard Taft was installed in Washington, and Theodore Roosevelt 
was on his way to Africa. After seven and one half years in the White House he 
was once more a private citizen. 

Despite the popular toast in the clubs of the rich "Health to the lions!" and 
the forebodings of his anxious friends, the safari in Africa was a success. For 
eleven months he and his party traveled "rifle in hand over the empty, sun- 
lit African wastes" experiencing, as he phrased it, "the joy of wandering 
through lonely lands; the joy of hunting the mighty and terrible lords of the 
wilderness, the cunning, the wary and the grim." Though he was not con- 
ditioned to the tropical climate, he was ill for only five days during the entire 
trip. He was watched wherever he went; his every move was recorded in the 
press. "The people," Senator Lodge wrote to him, "follow the account of your 
African wanderings as if it were a new Robinson Crusoe." 

As soon as the expedition disbanded in Khartoum it was in the middle of 
March 1910 Roosevelt became embroiled in the controversy over the British 
rule in Egypt. Invited to address a native officers' club, he spoke with "unmis- 
takable plainness as to their duty of absolute loyalty, and as to the ruin which 
would come to both Egypt and the Sudan unless the power and prestige of 
the English rule were kept undiminished." The speech embittered the Egyptian 
Nationalists, struggling to lift the yoke of British imperialism. 

Originally, he had planned to return home, but the demands for lectures 
were so pressing that he could not avoid accepting some of the invitations. 
Oxford University asked him to deliver the Romanes lecture; the Sorbonne in 
Paris wanted him to give an address; Kaiser Wilhelm insisted that he should 
speak in Germany. And Roosevelt himself felt that he should deliver an ad- 
dress in Norway, giving his belated thanks for the Nobel Peace Prize. Invita- 
tions poured in from the royal rulers of Europe. "I soon found," said he 
in amusement, "that while the different rulers did not really care a rap about 
seeing me, they did not like me to see other rulers and pass them by." And so 
he set out for a grand tour of the continent. 

It was a happy trip, the trip through Europe; the ex-President's unaffected 
candor fascinated kings and commoners alike. "I thoroughly liked and re- 
spected almost all the kings and queens I met," Roosevelt said. "They struck 
me as serious people with charming manners, devoted to their people and 
anxious to justify their own positions by the way they did their duty." But his 


respect was mixed with a degree of pity for "the tedium, the dull, narrow rou- 
tine of their lives/' which he felt forced them into the role of a "kind of subli- 
mated American vice-president." In dealing with the immensely complex 
questions of protocol at court functions, he insisted that his status as ex-President 
entitled him to no special precedence whatever. "To me," he declared, "there 
is something fine in the American theory that a private citizen can be chosen 
by the people to occupy a position as great as that of the mightiest monarch 
and to exercise a power which may surpass that of Czar, Kaiser, or Pope, and 
that then, after having filled this position, the man shall leave it an unpensioned 
private citizen, who goes back into the ranks of his fellow-citizens with entire 
self-respect, claiming nothing save what on his own individual merits he is 
entitled to receive." 

Not everything went smoothly. Roosevelt was Roosevelt, and he loved a good 
fight. Thus, in Rome he was embroiled in "an elegant row" with the Vatican. 
The reason: Pope Pius X would not receive him without a promise that he 
would not visit the American Methodist missionaries who talked of the Pope 
as "the whore of Babylon." Though Roosevelt had no intention of visiting the 
Methodists, he told the Vatican that he could not submit to "any conditions 
which limit my freedom of conduct." He deplored the excessive zeal of the 
Methodist missionaries, but he also rebuked Papal Secretary Merry del Val, 
whom he described as a "furiously bigoted reactionary." By his actions he 
showed the world "that I feared the most powerful Protestant Church just as 
little as I feared the Roman Catholics." 

From Italy the tour took him to Austria-Hungary, France, Belgium, Holland, 
the Scandinavian countries, and finally to Germany. Everywhere he went he 
attracted large crowds and intense curiosity; everywhere his attempts to explain 
that an ex- President has no more authority than any other American citizen 
were "greeted with polite but exasperating incredulity." 

Particular interest focused on his visit to Germany, where Kaiser Wilhelm's 
growing belligerence in the face of military encirclement was causing increas- 
ing concern to the British and French. "The Germans," in Roosevelt's opinion, 
"did not like me and did not like my country; and under the circumstances 
they behaved entirely correctly, showing me every civility and making no pre- 
tense of an enthusiasm that was not present." No cheering crowds followed him 
about, as in other nations, but he was warmly received by the Kaiser, "an able 
and powerful man," who asked how he was regarded in the United States. 
Roosevelt told him: "In America we think that if you lived on our side of the 
water you would carry your ward and turn up at the convention with your dele- 
gation behind you and I cannot say as much for most of your fellow sovereigns!" 

The English greeted him with good-humored affection. His Romanes lecture 
in Oxford, a treatise on the parallels between the evolution of animal life and 
the evolution of civilization, was introduced by Lord Curzon, the chancellor 
of the University. Curzon said that Roosevelt's "onslaughts on the wild beasts 
of the desert have been not less fierce nor less successful than over the many- 


headed hydra of corruption in his own land" an encomium which the chan- 
cellor topped off with this couplet: 

Before whose coming comets took to flight 

And all the Nile's seven mouths turned pale in fright. 

As if to justify this tribute to his vigor, Roosevelt essayed to counsel the British 
on empire management in a speech he delivered at the Guild Hall on being 
made a Freeman of the city of London. England, he declared, should decide 
whether it had a right to control Egypt or not. This speech created an uproar, 
with Englishmen both attacking and defending him. 

During his trip in Europe, King Edward VII of England died, and President 
Taft asked Roosevelt to represent the United States at the funeral. Like most 
royal funerals, it was a giant pageant more than an occasion of genuine grief, 
and the ex- President made little effort to restrain his enormous amusement at 
the studied posturings of the royal guests as they jostled for precedence and 
vented their petty jealousies against one another. Years later at Sagamore Hill 
he delighted friends and visitors with his anecdotes about how the domineering 
Kaiser put the lesser monarchs through their paces and about the contempt 
with which the better established kings and queens regarded the pathetic little 
"bush league czars from the Balkans." By the time the funeral was over, 
Roosevelt had had enough of royal pageants. "I felt," he said, "that if I met 
another king I should bite him." 

In early June it was time to go home. Letters had come by the thousands 
from all parts of the country, asking him to address meetings or give lectures. 
Taft had written as well a letter of political sorrow. Roosevelt knew of Taft's 
growing troubles with Congress and his growing troubles with the progressive 
wing of the party. Now he learned about them from the President him- 
self. And while Roosevelt was sailing toward America, a versifier in Life ex- 
pressed the feelings of many a citizen: 

Teddy come home and blow your horn, 

The sheep's in the meadow, the cow's in the corn. 

The boy you left to tend the sheep 

Is under the haystack fast asleep. 

As his ship, the Kaiserin Augusta Victoria, sailed into New York Harbor, 
some 2500 dignitaries, Congressmen, Senators, and governors, were at hand 
to greet him. The nation showed its affection by a spectacular demonstration. 
A huge parade, with ex-Rough Riders as an honor guard, escorted him 
up Broadway and Fifth Avenue between lines of cheering citizens. It was the 
most fervent reception of his career. 

With his return, press and public speculated about his future. What would 
he do? They were curious to know: Would he back Taft or would he join the 


OFF TO THE GREAT ADVENTURE. March 23, 1909, the day Theodore Roosevelt left 
for Africa, was a great day in Hoboken, New Jersey. He was fifty years old, but as eager as a 
young boy for adventure. The pier was dark with people Rough Riders, political friends, 
delegations of all kinds had come to shake his hand and bid him farewell. President Taft 
sent Archie Butt, his military aide, with a bon voyage letter and gold ruler inscribed: "Theo- 
dore Roosevelt from William Howard Taft. Good Bye Good Luck and a Safe Return." 

THE LUGGAGE of the expedi- 
tion contained a wide variety of 
objects from rifles, maps, and 
taxidermist equipment to boxes 
of champagne and whisky. 

The expedition's expenses, at 
first estimated at $75,000, were 
covered by the Smithsonian In- 
stitution in Washington with 
money donated by sponsors, An- 
drew Carnegie heading the list. 

Roosevelt signed up with Scrib- 
ncr's Magazine to write articles on 
his African experiences for 
$50,000. When he heard about 
this, King Edward of England 
remarked: "President Roosevelt is 
coming out as a penny-a-liner." 





FOR ELEVEN MONTHS Roosevelt went hunting 
and searched for rare specimens of animals in the 
jungles of Africa. In his articles for fyribner's and in 
his subsequent book, African Game Trails, he left a 
vivid description of those eleven months. His "list of 
game shot with the rifle during the trip" added up 
to 296 animals. Among these were 9 lions, 8 ele- 
phants, 1 3 rhinoceroses, 7 hippopotami, 6 buffaloes, 
15 zebras, and 28 gazelles. (Kermit's bag was 216.) 
On the last day of February 1910 the expedition 
began the return trip down the Nile. "We reached 
Khartoum on the afternoon of March 14, 1910," 
wrote Roosevelt, "and Kermit and I parted from our 
comrades of the trip with real regret; during the year 
we spent together there had not been ajar, and my 
respect and liking for them had grown steadily. More- 
over, it was a sad parting from our faithful black fol- 
lowers, whom we knew we should never see again." 


A Cunningham cartoon in the Washington Herald. 


THE FAMILY IS TOGETHER AGAIN. The Roosevclts, with their daughter Ethel, 
inspect the well from which Slatin Pasha had to drink during his long imprisonment. 
Rudolf Carl von Slatin, one of the most fabulous personalities in the Middle East, was 
Roosevelt's host during his three days of sightseeing in Khartoum. An Austrian, he came 
to the Sudan in 1879 at the instigation of the English Governor General Gordon. Soon he 
became governor of Dara, then governor general of Darfur. In December 1883 hostile Arab 
tribes captured him, and for eleven years they kept him as their prisoner. When he escaped 
in 1900, he was named inspector general of the Sudan, remaining in this post until the out- 
break of the First World War in 1914. 

The Roosevelts were welcomed by Slatin Pasha "with more than mere friendly enthusi- 
asm." They were entertained lavishly and they were shown around the country. Mrs. 
Roosevelt, with Ethel, came to Khartoum to join her husband and her son Kermit. They 
arrived on March 14, and it was a joyous reunion after such a long separation. During his 
whole stay in Africa, Roosevelt was "dreadfully homesick" for his wife. To his friend Spring- 
Rice he wrote: "Catch me ever leaving her again, if I can help it." 

Now that Mrs. Roosevelt was at his side, his happiness was complete. He showed her 
the desert, he made her ride on a camel, he took her on a sightseeing tour. 

After he delivered two addresses praising the British rule in the Sudan, the party jour- 
neyed to Wady Haifa and from there to Cairo where the "great adventure" came to an end. 


THE PIGSKIP* LIBFCAJR.Y which Roosevelt carried 
-with Him in an aluminum and oilcloth case weighed 
less than sixty pounds. The books revealed his literary 
interest, ranging from Momer to !N/Iacaulay and 
Carlyle, from Shakespeare to Dante, ICeats, and 
Browning, from Euripides to Nark Twain, from The 
Federalist papers to James Fenimore Cooper, Long- 
fellow, Holmes, Poe and Tennyson. 

In an appendix to His African Game Trails* Roose- 
velt said of trie books: "They were for use, not orna- 
ment. I almost always Had some volume witH me, 
eitHer in my saddle-pocket or in tHe cartridge-bag 
wHicH one of my gun-bearers carried to Hold odds and 
ends. Often my reading would be done while resting 
under a tree at noon, perhaps beside the carcass of a 
beast I had killed, or else while waiting for camp to 
be pitched; and in either case it might be impossible 
to get water for -washing. In consequence the books 
were stained with blood, sweat, gun oil, dust and 
ashes; ordinary bindings eitHer vanished or became 
loathsome, whereas pigskin merely grew to look as a 
we 11 -used saddle looks." 

. . 

^ ' /.'. ''' ^ ''?*'" ' ^"^-.i^ 

w&fe<-''' - ;'. '": -'-' " x ': ^' ' ^ .^X:*.Xrtr^ ^- 





THE KING OF ITALY delighted Roosevelt. Inter- 
ested in reading, big-game hunting, history, and 
social progress, he talked Roosevelt's language. Vic- 
tor Emmanuel III and Queen Helene "are loving 
and faithful to each other . . . and it was good to see 
their relations, together and with the children." 

VISITING THE FORUM with Lawrence F. Abbott 
(left), who acted during the European trip as Roose- 
velt's secretary, and with Jesse B. Carter, Director of 
Rome's American School of Classical Studies. At this 
time Roosevelt had "an elegant row" with Merry del 
Val, the Papal secretary, about the American Meth- 
odist missionaries, one of whom had caused a furor 
when he called the Pope "the whore of Babylon." 



where Roosevelt was staying in the villa of his sister- 
in-law. Pinchot brought with him a sheaf of letters 


read the caption of this Barclay cartoon in the Balti- 
more Sun. The newspapers at home were filled with 
stories of Gifford Pinchot J s meeting with Roosevelt in 
Europe. Chief Forester Pinchot, who was Roosevelt's 
planner in the conservation program, was dismissed 
by Taft when he interfered in the controversy be- 
tween Secretary of Interior Richard A. Ballinger and 
Louis Glavis, chief of a field division in Alaska. Pin- 
chot wrote a letter to Senator Dolliver in which he 
upheld Glavis as the defender of the people's interests 
and criticized the President for dismissing him. The 
quarrel grew in intensity, and the issue became con- 
servation versus the spoliation of natural resources. 
President Taft hesitated to remove Pinchot well 
knowing how the action would affect Roosevelt but 
finally had to do it. Though Lodge warned against 
an appearance of enmity toward Taft, Roosevelt 
would not listen and allowed Pinchot to visit him. 

from the progressives Albert J. Beveridge, Jona- 
than P. Dolliver, and William Allen White, full 
of complaints against President Taft and his policies. 





IN PARIS, Roosevelt went sight-seeing, visited Napoleon's tomb, accompanied by the 
Generals Niox, Feldman, and Dalstein and the Ambassadors Bacon and Jusserand. The 
following day, on April 23, 1910, he delivered an address at the Sorbonne on "Citizenship 
in a Republic," making appeal for moral rather than for intellectual or material greatness. 


Jusserand, the French ambassador to the 
United States, persuaded Roosevelt to re- 
view some troops, otherwise the people 
might feel that he "did not take her mili- 
tary power seriously, nor deem her sol- 
diers worth seeing." So off he went to 
Vincennes to see a sham battle "in the 
usual dreadful dress of the Visiting states- 
men' with frock coat and top hat." When 
the colonel of the French cavalry regiment 
suggested that he might like to mount a 
horse, Roosevelt was delighted at the 
suggestion. All he asked was to have a 
pair of leggings, which were duly pro- 
duced. At the end of the review he was 
heartily complimented by the troops, who 
were "very much pleased at my riding." 


IN BERLIN, on May 12, the German Emperor, with the Empress and several members of 
the imperial family, came to the University of Berlin to attend Roosevelt's lecture on "The 
World Movement," a long and dull discourse on the growth of civilization. The Kaiser 
seemed to like it, however, "nodding his head or smiling now and then with approval." 


University of Berlin. Until the morn- 
ing of the lecture it was not certain 
whether he would be able to deliver 
the address. For days he had a 
severe attack of bronchitis, and the 
physicians were not sure whether he 
"could use his voice for one hour in 
safety." Arrangements were made to 
have someone else read the address 
if it were found necessary at the last 
moment. But Roosevelt recovered 
in time, his vocal cords so well fixed 
up that when he began to speak, 
"his eyes directly on the Kaiser," his 
voice according to Count Billow, 
who was in the audience sounded 
"unusually loud and piercing." 




FOR FIVE HOURS the Kaiser and Roosevelt 
conversed. Roosevelt told the Emperor of Andrew 
Carnegie's suggestion to create a council of nations 
which could end Europe's dangerous armaments 
race and assure the settlement of international 


conflicts by arbitration rather than by guns. 
Next day the Kaiser sent Roosevelt the above set 
of photographs "with really amusing comments of 
his own pencilled on the back of them." They are 
published here for the first time in facsimile. 


On May 6, 1910, King Edward 
of England died, and President 
Taft asked Roosevelt to represent 
him at the King's funeral. 

On May 19 the eve of the 
funeral he attended the state 
banquet at Buckingham Palace 
with eight monarchs present. 
Roosevelt enjoyed himself im- 
mensely. At one side of the table 
sat King George of England; at 
the other, Emperor Wilhelm of 
Germany. As the dinner began, 
the face of everyone at the table 
was "wreathed and distorted with 
grief," but soon they had forgotten 
why they had come together. 
After his return to America, Roo- 
sevelt told President Taft: "I have 
never attended a more hilarious 
banquet in my life. I never saw 
quite so many knights." The King 
of Greece "fairly wept out his 
troubles to me," and King Alfonso 
of Spain confided "that he did not 
like anarchists, but as much as he 
hated anarchists, he hated the 
clericals more." 

Roosevelt was amused by court 
etiquette. Caring little where his 
place was in the procession, he 
found it funny when the special 
ambassador from France com- 
plained that the Chinese were 
riding in front of him. Though 
Roosevelt told him "I did not 
care where they put me," the 
Frenchman could not be calmed. 
"With tears in his eyes, tears of 
anger," he approached Roosevelt, 
asking him whether he had no- 
ticed "that the other guests had 
scarlet livery and that ours was 
black. I told him I had not no- 
ticed, but I would not have cared 
if ours had been yellow and 
green. My French, while fluent, 
is never very clear, and it took 
me another half hour to get 
it out of his mind that I was not 
protesting because my livery 
was not green and yellow." 



A CARTOON IN PUNCH at the time Rooseveh 
visited London. In it the lions at Trafalgar Square 
were wearing signs "Not to be shot,'* and were 
guarded by policemen. Roosevelt loved the joke. 


the occasion of his election as a Freeman of the City of 
London, he told the distinguished audience that he 
would not make an "extended address of mere thanks," 
but that he preferred to speak "on matters of real 
concern to you." 

Taking as his topic "The British Rule in Africa," 
he told his listeners that "the present condition of 
affairs is a grave menace to both your Empire and 
the entire civilized world ... if you do not wish to 
establish and keep order there ... get out of Egypt" 


AT OXFORD, JUNE 7, 1910, Roosevelt delivered 
the Romanes Lecture in the Sheldonian Theater on 
"Biological Analogies in History," one of his most 
profound and carefully prepared addresses. He 
showed the draft of it to his friend Henry Fairfield 
Osborn, who later recalled that he had blue-penciled 
some sentences. "I have left out certain passages that 
arc likely to bring on war between the United States 
and the governments referred to." 

After Roosevelt's speech the Archbishop of York 
said: "In the way of grading which we have at Ox- 
ford, we agreed to mark the lecture 'Beta Minus/ 
but the lecturer * Alpha Plus.' While we felt that the 
lecture was not a very great contribution to science, 
we were sure that the lecturer was a very great man." 

AT CAMBRIDGE, MAY 26, 1910, Roosevelt spoke 
to the undergraduates after being elected an honor- 
ary member of the literary and debating society on 
"The Condition of Success." "If a man lives a decent 
life," he said, "and does his work fairly and squarely 
so that those dependent on him and attached to him 
are better for his having lived, then he is a success . . ." 

A CHARMING INCIDENT at Cambridge. Roose- 
velt said that the students greeted him "as the 
students of our own colleges would have greeted me." 
He recalled: "On my arrival they had formed in two 
long ranks, leaving a pathway for me to walk between 
them, and at the final turn in this pathway they had 

a Teddy Bear seated on the pavement with out- 
stretched paw to greet me; and when I was given my 
degree in the chapel the students had rigged a kind of 
pulley arrangement by which they tried to let down 
a very large Teddy Bear upon me as I took the degree 
I was told that when Kitchener was given his 

degree they let down a Mahdi upon him, and a mon- 
key on Darwin under similar circumstances. I spoke 
in the Union to the students, and it was exactly and 
precisely as if I had been speaking to the Harvard 
students in the Harvard Union. ... I was inter- 
ested to find that there was such exact similarity." 


HOME AT LAST. Friends, politicians, newspapermen met the Kaiserin Augusta Victoria on 
a tender to greet Roosevelt as the liner dropped anchor off quarantine on June 18, 1910. 
It was a rousing welcome he received the crowd was extremely happy to have him back. 


The Roosevelts descend the gang- 
plank. "I have been away a year 
and a quarter . . . and I have seen 
strange and interesting things," 
he told the press. "I am more glad 
than I can say to be back in my 
own country, back among the 
people I love." He had forgotten 
that only a few weeks before he 
had written Cabot Lodge: "Ugh! 
I do dread getting back to Amer- 
ica, and having to plunge into 
this cauldron of politics." 

He further said: "I want to 
close up like a native oyster. . . . 
I have nothing to say." This state- 
ment only amused the reporters; 
they were sure they knew better. 



This Donahey cartoon especially the caption beneath it tickled the funny bone of America. 
It was "bully" to have him back again; life had not been the same while he was away 


returned from his European trip, his devotion to 
Taft was still strong. The President had sent a long 
and pathetic letter which reached Roosevelt in 
Southampton. "I do not know," Taft wrote, "that I 
have had harder luck than other Presidents, but I do 
know that thus far I have succeeded far less than 
have others. I have been conscientiously trying to 
carry out your policies, but my method of doing so 
has not worked smoothly." 

He reviewed his accomplishments. He believed 
that his tariff bill was a good one, he felt that the tax 
on corporations was useful, he was pleased that 
within a short time Arizona and New Mexico would 
become states of the Union. He proudly reported 
that the chief conservation measure would become 
law, as would the postal savings bill. 

Roosevelt reassured his friend: "I shall make no 

speeches or say anything for two months, but I shall 

keep my mind open as I keep my mouth shut." It 

was a fine promise but within days it was forgotten. 


A YOUNG MAN watches the adulation of his wife's 
uncle. Nobody cares about him as he leans against 
the funnel of the boat. He is just one of the many 
members of the welcoming group. But in the span of 
a generation he will be the figure in the center of 
the stage. His name: Franklin Delano Roosevelt. 

WELCOME HOME! Members of the family and 
friends gathered around the Roosevelts after they 
left the ocean liner and made their way on the reve- 
nue cutter to the Battery. Mrs. Roosevelt is surrounded 


by the group of ladies at the left. In the center, the 
bearded figure in top hat and with his hand on the 
railing is Henry Cabot Lodge, faithful friend and 
adviser* On the right, standing before the funnel, is 

Franklin D, Roosevelt, the young man whose destiny 
so closely paralleled that of Theodore, even then 
being Assistant Secretary of the Navy. On his left is 
his wife, Eleanor, the niece of Theodore Roosevelt. 





A cartoon by C. R. Macauley in the New York World 
expressed America's feeling toward the homecomer. 





"It is now a year and three months since I assumed office and I have had a 
hard time I do not know that I have had harder luck than other Presidents, 
but I do know that thus far I have succeeded far less than have others. I have 
been conscientiously trying to carry out your policies but my method of doing 
so has not worked smoothly." This was Taft, writing to Roosevelt in London. 

Roosevelt was well aware of the stress and strain within the Republican 
ranks. He had seen Gifford Pinchot in Italy, he had spoken with Elihu Root, 
and he had received many messages from insurgent Republicans. Their de- 
scriptions of the political picture were dark. "Ugh! I do dread getting back to 
America, and having to plunge into this cauldron of politics," he wrote to 
Cabot Lodge from Norway. "Our own party leaders did not realize that I was 
able to hold the Republican party in power only because I insisted on a steady 
advance, and dragged them along with me. Now the advance has been stopped, 
and whether we blame the people on the one side, or the leaders on the other, 
the fact remains that we are in a very uncomfortable position." 

Replying to Taft's letter from London, Roosevelt told the President that he 
was "much concerned about some of the things I see and am told; but what I 
have felt it best to do was to say absolutely nothing and indeed to keep my 
mind as open as I kept my mouth shut!" These same sentiments he repeated 
after his arrival in New York, promising to "close up- like a native oyster." 

But how could he remain silent when all he heard was that the party organi- 
zation was falling apart at the seams? How could he remain silent when he 
saw that the progressives who had comprised his most devoted supporters 
were forced into opposition by the President? How could he remain silent 
when he saw that on the vital political issues of the day tariff, conservation, 
railroad regulation his party was sorely divided? 

He was disappointed in Taft, the man whom he had chosen to continue his 
policies. Only ten days after he set foot in America, he wrote to Gifford Pin- 
chot that "in all probability Taft has passed his nadir. He is evidently a man 
who takes color from his surroundings. He was an excellent man under me, 
and close to me. For eighteen months after his election he was a rather pitiful 
failure, because he had no real strong man on whom to lean, and yielded to 
the advice of his wife, his brother Charley, the different corporation lawyers 
who had his ear, and various similar men." 

He was aware that Taft's intentions were good, but he also realized that the 



President had neither the drive nor the aggressiveness to translate the good 
intentions into good politics. Amiable, stolid, honest, Taft would have made 
a passable Chief Executive if only Theodore Roosevelt had not been his 
predecessor. To follow a flamboyant, colorful man and be successful is always 
difficult; to follow a Roosevelt in the presidential chair and be successful was 
impossible. Elihu Root put his finger on it when he said that changing from 
Roosevelt to Taft was like changing from an automobile back to a horse-cab. 

Taft was no master in the art of politics, and he bungled into controversies 
which another, shrewder man would have avoided. He threw his support 
behind "Uncle Joe" Cannon, the ultra-conservative Speaker of the House 
(against whose dictatorial powers the progressives rebelled), though he had no 
more sympathy for Cannon's autocratic methods than Roosevelt had when he 
was President. He praised the Payne-Aldrich tariff bill (which the progressives 
in the party fought violently) as "the best tariff bill that the Republican party 
has ever passed." And when the storm broke over the remark, he retracted it 
by saying that "the comparative would have been a better description than 
the superlative." He appeared to be especially during the Ballinger-Pinchot 
controversy a foe of conservation, which he was not. "Taft, who is such an 
admirable fellow, has shown himself such an utterly commonplace leader," 
wrote Roosevelt in August to his English friend Arthur Hamilton Lee, "good 
natured; feebly well-meaning, but with plenty of small motive, and totally 
unable to grasp or put into execution any really great policy." 

The party was in a turmoil. The progressives were weary of the President 
and the men around him, and Taft was convinced that the real purpose of the 
progressives was to wreck his administration and defeat him in 1912. The 
schism between the two wings grew. In the primaries of 1910 the regular 
Republicans suffered one defeat after the other. with the progressives winning 
almost every contest. 

Roosevelt was in an unhappy mood. It was not hard to see that the fight 
within the Republican ranks would help the Democrats to victory in the mid- 
term election. Thus, he felt that he must throw himself into the campaign and 
unify the two wings that were pulling in opposite directions. 

After an unsuccessful attempt in New York State, where he endorsed the 
direct primary and was compelled to fight the old Republican wheelhorses on 
the floor of the state convention to win the chairmanship, he left for a speak- 
ing tour. His special train covered some 5000 miles in 1 6 states, and wherever 
he went, he was greeted with enthusiasm. He would not permit the Repub- 
lican National Committee to sponsor his trip. "My speeches on the trip will 
represent myself entirely, nobody else," he told reporters. 

As he journeyed through the Middle West his speeches echoed progressive 
principles; the conservatives got little comfort from them. It was at Osawa- 
tomie, Kansas, that he enunciated the doctrine of the New Nationalism and 
uttered the sentence which chilled the spines of all standpatters. He said, "The 
man who wrongly holds that every human right is secondary to his profit must 
now give way to the advocate of human welfare, who rightly maintains that 
every man holds his property subject to the general right of the community to 


regulate its use to whatever degree the public welfare may require it." For this 
the New York Post denounced him as "the most radical man in public life in 

our time." 

Having gained the support of the progressives in the West, he returned east, 
where he sought to convince the regular Republicans that it was in their best 
interest to work together with the progressives. In speech after speech he came 
out for moderate regulars and for moderate progressives. But when the elec- 
tion returns were in, they showed that the strategy had not worked the 
country repudiated the divided Republican party. The Democrats won with 
a large majority in the House of Representatives, and they won in New York 
State, defeating Roosevelt's hand-picked candidate for the governorship. 

Never before had Roosevelt suffered such political defeat. Disconsolate in 
heart and dejected in spirit, he looked toward the future with gloom. 

He buried himself in Sagamore Hill, trying to keep out of the limelight. He 
would not accept any invitations to give speeches. He would not allow him- 
self to be drawn publicly into the increasingly violent controversy between 
progressives and standpatters. On the surface he was still friendly toward Taft, 
but the warmth of their relationship was gone. They were not seeing each other, 
and their correspondence had ceased. Taft could not understand Roosevelt's 
behavior. "I don't know what he is driving at except to make my way more 
difficult," he said to Archie Butt after Roosevelt, in The Outlook, attacked his 
arbitration proposals. And he bemoaned the fact of a "devoted friendship 
going to pieces like a rope of sand." More and more the two former friends 
drifted apart, their mounting antagonism fostered not only by political but by 
personal issues. Members of their families, political friends and foes, news- 
paper writers, Washington gossips, all contributed their part in widening the 
rift between them until it became an unbridgeable gulf. 

The last ties were severed on the very day Roosevelt became fifty-three 
years old. On that day October 27, 1911 the Taft administration brought 
an anti-trust suit against the U. S. Steel Corporation, an action which charged 
among other things that Roosevelt had been misled during the 1907 panic 
when he allowed U. S. Steel to purchase the Tennessee Coal and Iron Com- 
pany. Roosevelt was hurt to the quick. He wrote an article in The Outlook, casti- 
gating the administration and revealing Taft's part in the affair. "The Trust, 
the People, and the Square Deal," as the article was called, focused the coun- 
try's attention on him. Rooseveltians of every variety, from ex-Rough Riders 
to senators, converged on Sagamore Hill, urging him to become a candidate. 
"I do not want to be President again," said their hero. "I am not a candidate, 
I have not the slightest idea of becoming a candidate." But to his friend Bishop 
he confessed: "Taft is utterly hopeless. I think he would be beaten if nomi- 
nated, but in any event it would be a misfortune to have him in the Presidential 
chair for another term, for he has shown himself an entirely unfit President." 

And as he groped for a decision, all America was asking the same question, 
the one which the New York American put succinctly: "T. R.: R U or R U not?" 




(1841-1915), son-in-law 
of Rockefeller, repre- 
sented R. I. in the Sen- 
ate from 1881 to 1911. 


(1850-1924), a close 
friend of Roosevelt from 
young manhood. Mass. 
Senator 1893 to 1924. 


(1862-1941), prominent 
member of the Mormon 
sect, was a Senator from 
Utah from 1903 to 1933. 


(1836-1918) served as 
Maine's Senator from 
1881 to 1911, for a rec- 
ord thirty-year term. 


(1852-1914), a Senator 
from New Jersey 1899 to 
1911, and a personal 
friend of President Taft. 


(1852-1912), a Senator 
from Idaho from 1903 
until death, helped frame 
his stdtc's constitution. 


Between Abraham Lincoln in 1861 and Theodore 
Roosevelt in 1901, the country, with the exception 
of the Democrat Grover Cleveland, had elected only 
Republicans for the high office. They were weak men 
with no ability for leadership. During these forty 
years the real power was not in their hands, but in 
the hands of big industrialists, big bankers, and big 
businessmen. Men like John D. Rockefeller, Andrew 
Carnegie, J. Pierpont Morgan, William H. Vander- 
bilt, James J. Hill wielded more political influence 
than any of the Presidents. 

It was during these decades that the philosophy 
of the Republican party underwent a radical change. 
Gone were the days of the reform Republicanism 
and idealism of Lincoln; during these years the poli- 
cies of the party became based on a materialistic 
concept. In the Senate the interests of the large indus- 
tries and combines of oil, sugar, petroleum, cotton 
were well taken care of. And while a chosen few 
amassed fortunes, the people who created the wealth 
had to be content with starvation wages. 

The greatest sufferers in this era of abundance 
were the farmers. Prices for agricultural products 


President Taft praised the conservative Payne- 
Aldrich tariff bill, declaring in a speech at Winona, 
Minnesota, that it was "the best tariff that has been 
passed at all." His remarks caused an uproar in 
the Middle West. Progressive Republican Senators 
and Representatives from that area, thoroughly 
aroused by the high tariff provisions of the bill, bitterly 
criticized the President and assailed "Aldrichism." 


were low, mortgage money was high. The situation 
cried for a remedy, and when such remedy was not 
forthcoming, farmers and workers in the Middle 
West banded together and allied themselves under 
the Populist banner. The people demanded reform, 
they cried for justice. But Congress under the domi- 
nant influence of conservative politicians blocked 
all reform legislation. 

When Roosevelt who sympathized with many of 
the progressive proposals left the White House in 
1909, his party was already divided and was grow- 
ing rapidly toward a schism. President Taft's inept- 
ness hastened this political split. His handling of the 
tariff issue, his support of Speaker Cannon who 
omitted most of the progressives from permanent 
committees in the House his dismissal of Gifford 
Pinchot, enraged the progressives. "Taft is a damn, 
pig-headed blunderer," said a Middle Western pub- 
lisher to Roosevelt. The dissatisfaction with the 
President and his policies grew. 

At the time of Roosevelt's return from Europe, 
the battle lines were already clearly drawn. The con- 
servative standpatters rallied behind Taft, and the 
progressives looked upon Roosevelt as their man. 



President Taft sided with the conservative wing of his 
party, who supported Joseph Cannon, the Speaker 
of the House, while the progressives were determined 
to shear "Uncle Joe" of his extraordinary political 
powers. On March 16, 1910, George W. Morris of 
Nebraska offered a resolution calling for a Rules 
Committee on which the Speaker would not sit. 
After a heated debate the progressives won their case. 


(1855-1925), twice gov- 
ernor of Wisconsin, en- 
tered the Senate in 1906 
and served until 1925. 


(1858-1910), Iowa Sen- 
ator from 1900 to 1910, 
one of the outspoken 
antagonists of Aldrich. 


(1862-1927), an Indiana 
Senator 1899-1911 and 
outstanding biographer 
of Marshall and Lincoln. 


(1861-1944), Kansas 
Senator 1909 to 1915, 
newspaper owner, Pan- 
ama R.R. commissioner. 


(1850-1926), Iowa Sen- 
ator 1 908- 1 926 and dele- 
gate to every Republican 
convention for 46 years. 


(1851-1931), Senator 
from Minnesota 1901 to 
1917, called by Taft "an 
unstable light weight." 


"THEODORE, THINGS HAVENT BEEN THE SAME!" weeps the battered, emaciated 
Republican mascot in this Cleveland Plain Dealer cartoon, printed the day he returned. 

TAFT'S DIFFICULTIES: the tariff. Here he pleads TAFT'S ACHIEVEMENTS: his "four little 
with Senator Aldrich for a more equitable tariff bill, bills." He points at them with great pride. 


"I'VE GOT TO SEE HIM!" After Roosevelt's return, all the insurgent Republicans who 
were fighting President Taft and his policies flocked to Sagamore Hill to unburden their 
hearts and ask for advice. Within four days after his arrival Roosevelt had forgotten his 
promise to keep his ears open but remain silent. In the New York Times of June 23 he said 
that all who were opposed to the direct primary in New York were eligible to the Ananias 
Club, which "already has a big waiting list." Thus he was back in the "cauldron of politics." 



WHAT TO DO? A month after Roosevelt's return from Europe, Harper's Weekly published 
this J. Campbell Gory cartoon, which correctly expressed the feeling of the country and put 
the finger on Roosevelt's predicament. The lion in the drawing asks: "I wish I knew what 
you are going to do with me," and Roosevelt replies: "So do I." 

Roosevelt was at a crossroads of his life. Fifty -one years old, full of ambition and a 
driving temperament, he had no office, no political power, and little to do. After eight bully 
years in the Presidency and after one year of hunting, exploring, lecturing, and mingling with 
royalty, private life seemed not only tasteless but unbearable. The question was: what next? 


All those Republicans who were 
against Taft's policies rushed to 
see Roosevelt, pouring out their 
hearts to the attentively listening 
Colonel. Senator La Follette of 
Wisconsin, Senator Beveridge of 
Indiana, two of Taft's staunchest 
enemies, were among the early 
visitors. President Taft, seeing 
Roosevelt's guest list in the 
newspapers, cried out: "If I 
only knew what the President 
wanted!" typically referring 
to Roosevelt as the President. 



JUNE 20, 1910: "I want to close up . . ." 

JULY 9, 1910: The Bronco Buster. 

SEPTEMBER 24, 1910: The Colonel's baggage. 

SEPTEMBER 26, 1910: Personal property. 

JUMPING INTO LOCAL POLITICS. In his first speech on American soil Roosevelt 
promised to remain silent for sixty days and not to take sides in the political battles then 
raging between President Taft and the Republican insurgents. "I want to close up like a 
native oyster," he said. But barely four days had passed before the pledge was fprgotten. 
He plunged into the battle over the controversial direct primary bill in New York, which 
was defeated by the Republican bosses. Undaunted, Roosevelt kept on with his fight. In 
the Saratoga State Convention he scored a victory by forcing through the gubernatorial 
nomination for Henry L. Stimson, but in the ensuing election his hand-picked candidate 
was squarely beaten. Roosevelt said of this repudiation at the polls: "I think that the 
American people feel a little tired of me, a feeling with which I cordially sympathize." 




In St. Louis, Roosevelt took his 
first airplane ride with aviator 

CAMPAIGNING AGAINST HEAVY ODDS. In August 1910, with a strong tide surging 
against the Republicans, Roosevelt set out on a tour to turn the voters' sentiments. When 
asked whether he would speak on behalf of his party, he said: "My speeches on the trip 
will represent myself entirely, nobody else." He tried to take the middle of the road, 
trying to influence standpatters and insurgents alike. He went as far as he could in 
praising Taft's policies. Then at Osawatomie, Kansas he made a radical address which 
at one blow alienated all standpatters. In his speech Roosevelt advocated a New Nationalism, 
a creed to put "the national need before sectional or personal advantage." He pleaded 
for freeing the government "from the sinister influence of control of special interests," de- 
manded the supervision of the capitalization of the railroads and other interstate business 
corporations, asked for an expert tariff commission free of political influence, for the im- 
position of graduated income and inheritance taxes, for improved labor conditions, for aid 
to the farming classes, for conservation of natural resources. It was a revolutionary program 
indeed, its ideas adopted in part from those of William Jennings Bryan and La Follette. 



"DEE-LIGHTED" says the sorely battered and 
much patched-up Roosevelt after the decisive Re- 
publican defeat in the midterm election of 1910. 

"FRAZZLED" says the caption, alluding to Roose- 
velt's boast before he left for the Saratoga conven- 
tion that he would beat the bosses to a "frazzle." 

THE MIDTERM ELECTION ended disastrously for the Republican party. In the House 
of Representatives there was an overwhelming Democratic majority, with 228 Democrats 
facing 162 Republicans. In the Senate the Republicans lost ten seats. Twenty-six states 
elected Democratic governors. The electorate repudiated both the standpatters and the in- 
surgents. The Republicans were in a bad way. For Roosevelt it was a personal defeat. His 
candidate for the New York governorship lost the election, even though everyone realized 
that a vote for Henry L. Stimson was a vote for Theodore Roosevelt as President in 1912. 
Political observers believed that the crushing defeat would finish his political career. 



THE VICTORIOUS DEMOCRATIC DONKEY: "And don't forget there's another one 
coming to you two years from now." (Cartoon by Kemble in Harper's Weekly, Nov. 19, 1910.) 




As the presidential year of 1912 dawned, the Republican party was in a sad 
state of disorder "a house divided against itself." The conservative wing, 
controlling the party machinery, supported the renomination of President 
Taft, while the insurgents, rallied in the National Progressive League, were 
for Senator Robert La Follette of Wisconsin. Though officially behind La 
Follette, they were eagerly searching for a more popular figure who would be 
able to command the support of the eastern states and who would be strong 
enough to beat Taft in the convention. There was only one such person 
Theodore Roosevelt. 

Roosevelt knew that La Follette had no strong support outside the Middle 
West. He knew that Taft would have no difficulty to beat La Follette in the 
convention. But he also knew that with Taft as a candidate, the Republicans 
would lose the election. Thus, late in 1911 he approved a plan which allowed 
his progressive supporters to campaign in Ohio against Taft but not for the 
candidacy of La Follette. 

A few weeks later, on February 2, 1912, the La Follette bandwagon came 
to a final halt in Philadelphia. On that evening the sick La Follette addressed 
a meeting of periodical publishers. For three hours he ranted, his speech at 
times incoherent, and when he sat down it was evident that he could no 
longer be a candidate. 

The cry for Roosevelt gained momentum. Most of La Follette's supporters 
were in his corner. The pressure on him to accept the candidacy was intense, 
though many of his friends advised caution and suggested waiting until 1916, 
when the Presidency could certainly be his. Roosevelt, thoroughly bitten 
by the presidential bug, had no patience. The time to set a setting hen was 
when the hen wanted to set. 

Already before the collapse of La Follette in Philadelphia, he was in the race. 
On January 12 he hit upon the idea of introducing himself as a candidate in 
a reply to the progressive governors who had invited him to run. But then he 
postponed the announcement. 

On Washington's Birthday he addressed the Ohio Legislature in Columbus. 
Most of what he said was moderate in tone, yet the passage about the democ- 
ratization of the judiciary wrecked all his good intentions, alienating with one 
stroke the conservative wing and estranging the big business and industrial 
interests. Republican newspapers referred to the speech, which Roosevelt 
called "A Charter of Democracy," as "A Charter of Demagogy." 



On the way from Columbus, Roosevelt told a newspaperman: "My hat is 
in the ring. The fight is on and I am stripped to the buff." And within a few 
days he answered the petition of the seven progressive governors: "I will 
accept the nomination for President if it is tendered to me and I will adhere 
to this decision until the convention has expressed its preference." He was now 
an active candidate, ready to wrest the nomination from Taft. 

The President in the White House lost his calm. In his Lincoln Day speech 
(Roosevelt was not yet a pronounced candidate) he lashed out against the 
men who "are seeking to pull down the pillars of the temple of freedom and 
representative government," cast scorn on the doctrine of the recall of the 
judiciary, and charged that those who urged such changes were "political 
emotionalists or neurotics." No one could misunderstand such words. They 
were directed against his former friend, the man who had made him President. 

On April 25 the President went to Massachusetts and, goaded by Roosevelt's 
relentless attacks on the administration, he for the first time struck at his 
former friend by name. He charged that the ex- President had violated his 
promise to the American people not to run for the Presidency again. "That 
promise and his treatment," declared Taft, "only throw an informing light on 
the value that ought to be attached to any promise of this kind that he may 
make for the future." He said that his attacks on Roosevelt were made with 
reluctance. "This wrenches my soul," he declared. But there seemed no other 
way. "I am here to reply to an old and dear friend of mine, Theodore Roose- 
velt, who has made many charges against me. I deny those charges. I deny all 
of them. I do not want to fight Theodore Roosevelt, but then sometimes a man 
in a corner fights. I am going to fight." 

A day after the attack Roosevelt replied in Worcester to Taft's accusa- 
tion. Urged on by a wildly partisan audience, he put aside his prepared speech 
and attacked Taft with unprecedented violence. He accused the President of 
deliberately misrepresenting him, and said that Taft "has not merely in 
thought, word and deed been disloyal to our past friendship, but has been dis- 
loyal to every common or ordinary decency and fair dealings such as should 
obtain even in dealing with a man's bitterest opponents." 

The two men were now enemies. The aroused Taft went onto the stump, 
vigorously defending his policies. "I don't want to fight," he repeated at meet- 
ing after meeting. "But when I do fight I want to hit hard. Even a rat in a 
corner will fight." 

What followed was a titanic battle, a vitriolic verbal brawl between two 
who had expressed the most unqualified respect and admiration for each other 
a few years earlier. Across the nation the reverberation of their accusations 
cut across ties of blood, family, friendship, as well as of party. Republicans 
turned against Republicans with more feeling than they turned against Demo- 
crats. Public passions were running high; accusations flew wildly. It was 
rumored that Roosevelt had gone mad, and that if he could seize the Presi- 
dency, he would make it a hereditary office. "Unless he breaks down under 
the strain and is taken to a lunatic asylum," warned the Louisville Courier- 
Journal, "there can be in his name and person but one issue, life tenure in the 
executive office." 


Roosevelt realized that he could secure the nomination only through direct 
primaries, in which delegates to the national convention would be chosen by 
the party rank and file at the polls rather than by the Republican politicians 
in state conventions. Therefore he launched a vigorous campaign to achieve 
that end. He won over six state legislatures; and where direct primaries were 
adopted, he became the favorite by considerable margins. But in all other 
states which retained the old convention system, Taft had the superiority. 

Twelve days before the opening of the convention in Chicago, the Repub- 
lican National Committee reviewed the credentials of the Roosevelt and the 
Taft delegates. Roosevelt, from Sagamore Hill, kept in touch with his man- 
agers by long-distance telephone and a private telegraph wire. The committee 
firmly in the hands of Taft supporters ruled for the Taft delegates, a ruling 
which Roosevelt denounced as "a fraud, as vulgar, as brazen, and as cynically 
open as any ever committed by the Tweed regime in New York forty years ago." 

He left for Chicago, and on his arrival declared: "It is a naked fight 
against theft, and the thieves will not win." Talking to an audience of his 
supporters the following night, he delivered a most moving address. He told 
them that the progressive cause should not be allowed to die, despite "the foul 
victory for which our opponents hope," and appealed to them to fight with 
him for the right. "We stand at Armageddon, and we battle for the Lord," 
were his final words. 

All such exhortations were of no avail. The Taft men knew what they 
wanted; they were determined to keep the nomination for their candidate. Of 
the 254 contested seats, the Credentials Committee of the convention awarded 
no less than 235 to the President's delegates. Thus Taft won with 561 votes 
against 107 for Roosevelt and 41 for La Follette. Still, 344 delegates refrained 
from voting, 344 men would not back the regular candidate of the party. This 
doomed Republican success in November. "The only question now," said 
Chauncey Depew as he waited for Roosevelt's candidacy on a third-party 
ticket, "is which corpse gets the most flowers." 

With Taft chosen as the candidate of the convention, the Roosevelt dele- 
gates repaired to another hall. There Roosevelt vowed to make the fight and 
run as a candidate on an independent ticket. The party split which so 
many thoughtful Republicans feared, became a reality Taft and the regulars 
were on one side, Roosevelt and the progressives on the other. It was without 
doubt that the Democratic candidate, Woodrow Wilson, the reform governor 
of New Jersey, would benefit by the Republican dissension and be elected 
President of the United States. On election day Wilson polled 6,286,124 votes 
against Roosevelt's 4,126,000 and Taft's 3,483,922. The Republican party was 
in shambles, the progressive hopes broken. Roosevelt, accepting the outcome 
of the election "with entire good humor and contentment," said: "The fight is 
over. We are beaten. There is only one thing to do and that is to go back to 
the Republican party. You can't hold a party like the Progressive party 
together. . . . There are no loaves and fishes." 




"RESTING." A cartoon by Phil Porter in the Boston 
Traveler depicts Theodore Roosevelt in 1911, when 
he was out of the political arena. During this period 
he did literary work and was contributing editor of 
The Outlook, writing articles for that magazine. 

Decoration Day speech at Grant's tomb in New York 
on May 30, 1911. In his address Roosevelt spoke 
against "mollycoddles" and "unrighteous peace," 
meaning the Taft-proposed arbitration treaties with 
France and England. Taft had suggested that "all 
questions determinable by the principles of law and 
equity" were to be submitted to the Hague Tribunal. 
And though Roosevelt would accept a treaty with 
England, he would not commit himself with France, 
giving as the reason that while Britain would never 
commit an offense which could not be adjudicated, 
France might. In this way he assailed publicly 
and for the first time openly his successor's policies. 



MAY 25, 1912: WHICH WILL WIN? 


THE RIFT BETWEEN ROOSEVELT AND TAFT was based not only on political 
issues, but on the personalities of the two men. 

When Roosevelt was President, he was the giver and Taft the receiver. The tables turned 
when Taft became President, and Roosevelt had hot the talent to play the part of a receiver. 
Mark Sullivan, who knew 'him well, said: "Only incredible self-restraint and humility, 
especially on the part of Roosevelt, could have averted a clash." Of this, Roosevelt was 

The growing enmity began with political matters. Roosevelt was hurt that Taft would 
not keep his appointees James Garfield, Luke Wright, Henry White although he had 
promised to do so. Roosevelt was pained that Taft dismissed Gilford Pinchot, his adviser on 
conservation. Roosevelt was puzzled that Taft was so pleased with the Payne-Aldrich tariff 
and that he supported the conservative Speaker Uncle Joe Cannon against the Progressives. 
Roosevelt was peeved that Taft was under the thumb of the standpatters. 

The rift was widened by personal issues. Taft's ambitious wife fanned the flame of dis- 
content against the Roosevelts. In the newspaper of Taft's half-brother, the policies of 
Roosevelt were frequently criticized. On the other hand, Alice Roosevelt thought it great 
fun to mimic Mrs. laft, sending the President's wife into a dither. 

In 1911, Roosevelt was at a crossroads of his career. He felt that his political leadership 
was at an end, and he tried to keep silent one of the hardest of tasks for a man like him. 



MARCH 23, 1912: THE ISSUE 

To Henry Wallace, the father of Franklin D. Roosevelt's Vice President, he wrote that 
"what is needed for me is to follow the advice given by the New Bedford whaling captain 
to his mate when he told him that all he wanted from him was silence and damn little of that." 

Convinced that the Republicans would lose in the next presidential election, he thought 
that the best plan would be to renominate Taft, go down in defeat, then reorganize 
the party under progressive leadership. He would not openly endorse Senator Robert 
La Follette, the leader of the National Progressive Republican League and an active can- 
didate for the Republican nomination. 

Then on October 27, 1911 Taft's government brought a suit against the U.S. Steel 
Corporation for violating the Sherman Anti-Trust Act, and this changed the political scene. 
The implication of the suit was that Roosevelt, under whose administration the steel cor- 
poration had bought the Tennessee Coal and Iron Company, was either a tool of big 
business or a fool, whom bankers and businessmen could deceive at will. Roosevelt was 
infuriated. In red-hot anger he wrote an article for The Outlook. This put the limelight on 
him; overnight he grew into a presidential candidate, overnight he became the man who 
was to replace the bungling Taft. 

Roosevelt now swam with powerful strokes in the political waters; he was in his element 
again. The last week of February, after the complete collapse of La Follette's candidacy, he 
announced: "My hat is in the ring." He was ready to take the nomination away from Taft. 



On April 25, President Taft told a Massachusetts 
audience: "I am here to reply to an old and dear 
friend of mine, Theodore Roosevelt, who made many 
charges against me. I deny those charges. I deny all 
of them. I do not want to fight Theodore Roosevelt, 
but then sometimes a man in a corner fights. I am 
going to fight." It was the first time that he had 
attacked Roosevelt openly and by name. Next day 
Roosevelt replied in Worcester that Taft's attack on 
him was a "deliberate misrepresentation" of the 
issues. The voices of the two antagonists grew shrill. 
On May 4, Taft reiterated at Hyattsville, Maryland: 
"I'm a man of peace, and I don't want to fight. But 
when I do fight I want to hit hard. Even a rat in a 
corner will fight." After that it was a free-for-all. 


"Because I believe in genuine popular rule," said 
Roosevelt on February 26, 1912, before the Massa- 
chusetts Legislature, "I favor direct nominations, 
direct primaries; including direct preferential Presi- 
dential primaries, not only for local but for state 

delegates " The New York Times wrote that "the 

radical difference" between Roosevelt's and Taft's 
political beliefs was over "what the progressives call 
'popular government' the initiative, referendum 
and recall." 



enthusiastically welcomed. At Easton, Pa., on April 
11, 1912, where this picture was taken, his cheering 
supporters almost dragged him from his automobile. 




AN APRIL FOOL CARTOON by Harold T. Webster, published on April 1, 1912, when 
President Taft was still in a quandary how to fight his former friend. But before the month was 
out, both men had forgotten their friendship. Taft called his predecessor "a demagogue," a 
"flatterer of the people," a "dangerous egotist," a man who "could not tell the truth." And 
Roosevelt shot back that Taft was a "puzzlewit" and a "fathead," with "brains less than 
those of a guinea pig." It was a deplorable performance. Yet the public loved it. 


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IS HE A MADMAN? A Chicago real estate dealer 
offered $1,000 to charity (which he later upped to 
$5,000) if Roosevelt was "not found to be insane." 
At about the same time Dr. Allen McLane Hamilton 
in the New York Times questioned Roosevelt's sanity, 
while the psychologist Dr. Morton Price stated that, 

in his opinion, Roosevelt would "go down in history 
as one of the most illustrious psychological examples 
of the distortion of conscious mental processes 
through the forces of.subsconscious wishes." That 
these doctors who wished to prove insanity were loyal 
supporters of President Taft goes without saying. 

FIGHTING FOR DELEGATES. From April until the opening of the Republican con- 
vention in June, Roosevelt campaigned vigorously. He spoke in state after state to secure 
delegates who would support him. He urged the method of a direct primary, knowing too 
well that only through the adoption of this method could he be successful. Though the 
forces of the administration fought the adoption of direct primaries, Massachusetts, Penn- 
sylvania, Illinois, Maryland, Ohio, and South Dakota joined the six states where the direct 
primary was already in use. 

It was a seesaw battle, with hard fighting in every state convention. When words ran out, 
baseball bats took over. When arguments seemed useless, fists began their reasoning. Taft, 
as President, started off with a definite advantage. His hold on the Republican organization 
in the Solid South could not be challenged, and he had in his corner the delegates from 
New York, Michigan, Kentucky, and Indiana. 

But the support for Roosevelt mounted steadily. He won the Illinois direct primary, and 
he won in Pennsylvania, in California, Minnesota, Nebraska, and South Dakota. 

The high point of the contest came in Ohio; both Taft and Roosevelt put all their efforts 
into winning that state. Within the span of a single week Roosevelt addressed Ohio audi- 
ences ninety times, and Taft matched his performance to the letter. The result of the dra- 
matic struggle was a Roosevelt victory; he captured every district delegate of Ohio. 

Would that impress the Republican National Committee, which was to decide about the 
credentials of the delegates? The country waited with bated breath to hear that decision. 



CONTEST FOR DELEGATES. The above cartoons were published the first fortnight of 
June 1912, at the time the Republican convention assembled in Chicago to name a candi- 
date for the Presidency. 

The Roosevelt forces contested 254 seats before the National Committee. This was about 
one third of the total. Of these contested seats, the committee more interested in seating 
the Taft delegates than in handing down impartial judgment awarded 235 seats to the 
Taft men and only 19 to those for Roosevelt. Chicago and the country at large were in an 
emotional turmoil. If the Credentials Committee in the convention was to accept the deci- 
sion of the Taft-dominated National Committee, Roosevelt could not receive the nomina- 



tion. The questions on everybody's lips were: What would be the decision of the Credentials 
Committee and what would be the decision of the convention? The New York Times wrote 
that the Roosevelt men would stop at nothing short of assault and burglary to see their 
hero nominated. The celebrated Mr. Dooley predicted that the convention would be "a 
comby nation iv th' Chicago fire, Saint Bartholomew's massacree, the battle iv th' Boyne, 
th' life iv Jessie James, an' th' night iv th' big wind." And when Hennessey asked him 
whether he was going, Dooley answered: "Iv course I'm goin'! I haven't missed a riot in 
this neighborhood in forty years, an' onless I'm deceived by the venal Republican press this 
wan will rejoice the heart " It certainly fitted his prediction. 


named Taft with 561 votes against 107 for Roosevelt. 
However, 344 of the delegates abstained from voting. 

nominated Roosevelt, the man who said he stood at 
Armageddon and would "battle for the Lord." 

more named Wobdrow Wilson, the liberal governor of 
New Jersey, as the party's presidential candidate. 


The Republican convention opened in Chicago on 
June 18. Passions ran high, and partisanship erupted 
into fistfights. When Roosevelt's old friend Elihu 
Root, now a Taft supporter, was chosen as the chair- 
man of the convention, the Roosevelt men shouted: 
"Liar, thief, swindler"; they accused the Taft organ- 
ization with steam-rolling the convention. Thus, 
every time the new chairman rose, they shouted, 
"Toot-toot!" and rubbed sandpaper sheets together, 
giving an imitation of a steam roller. 

The night before the delegates began to ballot, 
and when it was already clear that he would be 
beaten, Roosevelt told his supporters: "What hap- 
pens to me is not of the slightest consequence; I am 
to be used, as in a doubtful battle any man is used, 
to his hurt or not, so long as he is useful and is then 
cast aside and left to die. I wish you to feel this. I 
mean it; and I shall need no sympathy when you 
are through with me." And he ended his eloquent 
appeal with the memorable words: "We fight in 
honorable fashion for the good of mankind, unheed- 
ing of our individual fates; with unflinching hearts 
and undimmed eyes, we stand at Armageddon and 
we battle for the Lord." 

Taft was nominated with 561 votes against Roo- 
sevelt's 107. But 344 delegates refrained from voting. 
Their silence meant disapproval of the party's offi- 
cial candidate. That same night Roosevelt said in 
another meeting: "If you wish me to make the fight, 
I will make it, even if only one state should sup- 
port me." 

Thus the signal for the third party was hoisted. A 
few weeks later, on August 5, the Progressives held 
a convention in Chicago and nominated Roosevelt 
as their standard-bearer. To twenty thousand cheer- 
ing supporters Roosevelt delivered his "Confession 
of Faith," an exceedingly long address. The speech 
was, in the words of the New York Sun, "a manifesto 
of revolution. It is a program of wild and dangerous 
changes. It proposes popular nullification of the 
Constitution. It proposes state socialism." The arch- 
conservative newspaper was in a doldrum. 

The platform of the Progressive party asked for 
trust regulation and for the development of agricul- 
tural credit. It endorsed reform legislation for a 
direct primary, for woman's suffrage, for a scientific 
tariff commission, for better working conditions in the 
factories, for minimum wage standards, for abolition 
of child labor, for an eight-hour working day. 

With the Republicans split in two, there was no 
doubt that the Democrats would win the election. 
As their candidate they nominated Woodrow 
Wilson, the reform-minded governor of New Jersey. 


Opera House on June 22, 1912. A few hours before, the Regular Republicans had chosen 
President Taft as their candidate, and now Roosevelt promised to run on a third-party ticket. 

"A PERFECTLY CORKING TIME" read the cap- "ON TO CHICAGO" read the caption on July 9 
tion on June 21 under this Macauley cartoon, drawn under another Macaiiley cartoon, in which the car- 
after the Republicans had convened in Chicago, toonist ridiculed Roosevelt and his Bull Moose Party. 




in the regular Republican press with unprecedented 
force and violence. Tempers flared; accusations flew 
freely in this probably the most emotional cam- 
paign in American history. Rollin Kirby drew 
Roosevelt as Moses. "Follow me, can't you see I'm 
Moses," read the caption under this cartoon, which 
Harper's Weekly published on September 7, 1912. 

"THE REVOLUTIONIST" was the title of this 
E. W. Kemble Harper's Weekly cartoon, printed on 
June 8, 1912. In it Roosevelt foments the fire of 
"Class Hatred" and "Discontent" under the chained 
and suffering figure of "The Republic." In the back- 
ground Kemble drew a revolutionary mob, with wav- 
ing flags, knives and rifles, whose dark shadows 
cheer the deed of the "Revolutionist" Roosevelt 


presidential nomination of the 
Democratic party at his summer 
home in Sea Girt, New Jersey. 
In his acceptance speech he 
gave a clear outline of his political 
philosophy, the New Freedom. He 
promised tariff reform and regu- 
lation of the trusts, he pledged 
to seek adequate laws for the 
protection of labor, for the con- 
servation of natural resources, 
and for better education of the 
nation's youth. And he declared: 
"We desire to set up a government 
that cannot be used for private 
purposes either in the field of 
business or in the field of politics." 


"THE NATIONAL PEST," a Kemble cartoon in 
the September 28, 1912, issue of Harper's Weekly, 
depicts Roosevelt as an insect which "appears regu- 
larly every four years," named "Species Cicada 
Rooseveltia." On the chest of it the artist drew 
a big "I," alluding to Roosevelt's egomania. Kemble 
was one of Roosevelt's most powerful antagonists, 
scoring savagely as he fought him with his pencil. 


Ittbn tw aft** ***dfot*1* 
Thoagh t I* yc^ fro* 0* 

campaign poster with a Rudyard Kipling quatrain 
under the pictures of the candidates. Roosevelt had 
no great hope of winning the election. On August 14 
he wrote to his friend Arthur Hamilton Lee that in 
his judgment Woodrow Wilson, whom he considered 
to be a good candidate, "will win, and that I will do 
better than Taft" a superbly accurate prediction. 

WILLIAM H. TAFT, after his 
nomination by the Republican 
convention, shied away from the 
campaign, following the tradition 
that a President should not stump 
for his re-election. Though his 
followers worked hard for him, 
Taft's hopes were dim long before 
the voters gave their verdict. 
"There are so many people in the 
country who don't like me," he 
lamented. With Roosevelt and 
Wilson eloquently expounding 
their political beliefs, people 
seemed to have forgotten that 
there was a third contender in the 
fray- clumsy, unhappy, well- 
meaning William Howard Taft. 


THE BULLET OF THE ASSASSIN pierced through the folded manuscript of the speech 
and a steel spectacle case which Roosevelt was carrying in his breast pocket. Otherwise it 

would have killed him. 

As the angry crowd jumped upon the assassin, Roosevelt ordered: "Don't hurt the man." 
Raising his bloody handkerchief, he indicated that he wanted to see his assailant. And as the 
trembling John Crank stood before him, Roosevelt muttered: "The poor creature." 


On October 14 at Milwaukee, as Roosevelt was 
leaving the Gilpatrick Hotel to make a campaign 
speech, he was shot by an insane fanatic. The man's 
name was John Crank, and why he wanted to kill 
Roosevelt was clear neither to him nor to anyone else. 
Though Roosevelt had no knowledge as to the 
seriousness of his wound, he refused to go to the 
hospital, but drove on where the people waited for 

him. "I will make this speech or die. It is one thing 
or the other." 

Reaching the platform, he told the assembly 
in a whispering voice: "I am going to ask you to be 
very quiet and please excuse me from making a long 
speech. I'll do the best I can, but there is a bullet in 
my body." It was one of the great dramatic moments 
of his life, and he played it to the full. "I have 
a message to deliver," he went on, "and will deliver 


THE BLOODY SHIRT OF ROOSEVELT, which he had later discarded in his railway 
car. "I shaved and took out the studs and buttons from my bloody shirt and put them in a 
clean shirt, as I thought I might be stiff next morning. This all tired me a little, and when 
I lay down in my bunk my heart was again beating fast enough, and my breath was short 
enough, to make me feel uncomfortable. But after a while I found that I could turn, if I 
did it very carefully, to my un wounded side, and then I fell asleep," 

it as long as there is life in my body." 

The audience was under his spell. "I have had an 
A-l time in life and I am having it now," he kept 
on, charging that "it was a very natural thing that 
weak and vicious minds should be inflamed to acts 
of violence by the kind of awful mendacity and abuse 
that have been heaped upon me for the last three 
months by the papers in the interests of not only 
Mr. Debs but of Mr. Wilson and Mr. Taft." For an 

hour and a half he held the platform while the 
bullet was in his chest. 

The X-rays showed that the wound was only 
superficial. A surgeon commented in awe: "It is 
largely due to the fact that he is a physical marvel 
that he was not dangerously wounded. He is one 
of the most powerful men I have ever seen laid on 
an operating table. The bullet lodged in the massive 
muscles of the chest instead of penetrating the lung." 


Dumttv tat on Hit wall. 

n 4li * " 

Dum|>iy ha4 a 
All tfte* ex- bosses 
And Bully Moose men., 

^ t, ' 

AFTER THE ELECTION Roosevelt said: "The fight is over. We are beaten. There is only 
one thing to do and that is to go back to the Republican party. You can't hold a party like 
the Progressive party together. . . . There are no loaves and fishes." He received 4,1 19,507 
votes against Taft's 3,484,956, but Wilson won by a wide margin with 6,293,019 votes. 




That it was Theodore Roosevelt who opened the gates of the White House 
for Woodrow Wilson was an irony of fate. Roosevelt came to hate Wilson; he 
loathed him with an intensity that bordered on the pathological. 

Early in the presidential campaign Wilson assessed the fundamental differ- 
ence between them. "Roosevelt," he said, "is a real vivid person whom the 
people have seen and shouted themselves hoarse over and voted for, millions 
strong; I am a vague, conjectural personality, more made up of opinions and 
academic prepossessions than of human traits and red corpuscles." There was, 
of course, more to it, but on the whole Wilson's characterization was to the 
point. The extrovert Roosevelt, with his unparalleled energy, human warmth, 
and robust animal spirits, was the antithesis of the scholarly and reflective 
Wilson, a man of quiet tastes who preferred the rapier to the broadsword, 
and whose closest approach to the "strenuous life" was an occasional game of 
golf. Roosevelt, spending his adult life in the political cauldron, possessed the 
common touch to a remarkable degree and was a master in the political art 
of compromise; Wilson, spending his adult years in the academic groves, was 
warm with intimate friends but inflexible in his prejudices and unable to ac- 
commodate himself to people and ideas he disliked. Yet for all his political in- 
experience, Wilson proved an amazingly adept politician during the years he 
was in public office. For all his unaggressive inclination toward the contem- 
plative life, he proved a doughty fighter of unyielding courage when the 
battle lines were drawn. And for all his aloofness and his tendency to admire 
the common man from a safe distance, he showed himself to be one of 
the great leaders of the people. 

His life ran on an even keel. Born in Staunton, Virginia, the son and 
grandson of Presbyterian ministers, he spent his early years in Georgia and 
the Carolinas amid the devastation and demoralization of the Reconstruction. 
His family environment imbued him with a respect for learning and a lifelong 
habit of regarding all public issues in the moral terms of right and wrong. He 
studied at Davidson College in North Carolina, then at Princeton University, 
where he read the lives of the great statesmen in order to master the art 
of public speaking. After his graduation he entered the University of Virginia, 
where he studied law. A short career as a practicing lawyer followed, but 
when he realized he could not make a success of it, he went back to more studies 
at Johns Hopkins University. He decided to become a teacher and taught for 


four years at Bryn Mawr and Wesleyan. In 1890 he returned to Princeton, 
joining the faculty as professor of jurisprudence and political economy. Twelve 
years later in 1902 he was elected president of that institution. These were 
the milestones of his career this was the path of his life. 

In 1910, at the instigation of the reform elements within the Democratic 
party, Wilson became a gubernatorial candidate of New Jersey. In this way 
at the age of fifty-four he started out in politics, the profession he had sought 
ever since his undergraduate days. "The profession I chose was politics," he 
later wrote, "the profession I entered, the law. I entered the one because 
I thought it would lead to the other." 

At Princeton, Wilson once said that academic politicians could make party 
politicians seem like mere amateurs. He now proceeded to demonstrate that 
the same methods which could win over recalcitrant students or trustees would 
work also on New Jersey voters. He captivated his audiences by his unassum- 
ing candor and his knack for translating complex issues into understandable 
terms. And when the ballots were counted, they showed that the professor had 
been elected to the governorship of New Jersey by the biggest majority ever 
given to a Democrat. 

In his new office Governor Wilson proceeded to blast away the precon- 
ceptions of the reformers, who had considered him a front for the machine, 
and the bosses, who had supposed that such an inexperienced theorist would 
be putty in their hands. Within a few months of his inauguration, he was at 
the head of the progressive movement. In quick succession, and over the op- 
position of the bosses, he pushed through a direct primaries law, a cor- 
rupt practices act, and an employers' liability act, as well as legislation setting 
up a public utilities commission and establishing new safeguards against 
municipal corruption. Before his first year was up, New Jersey had become a 
virtual laboratory for reform politics and Wilson was thought to be the most 
probable Democratic candidate for the Presidency in 1912. 

And while Wilson was steadily building up his reputation outside his state 
by extensive speaking tours, his friend Colonel E. M. House, a quiet liberal 
from Texas, worked behind the scenes on his behalf. Together the two men 
shared a vision, and together they shared an apprehension. Wilson expressed 
it in the course of a Western speaking tour: "There is a tremendous under- 
current of protest, which is bound to find expression. Taft will be renominated 
by the Republicans; unless the Democrats nominate someone whom the 
people can accept as expressing this protest there will be a radical third party 
formed and the result of the election may be little short of revolution." 
Of Roosevelt, whose hat was already in the ring, Wilson said privately: "God 
save us from him now in his present insane distemper of egotism." 

When the Democratic convention met in Baltimore's sweltering Fifth Regi- 
ment Armory, the challenge to the party was clear. With the Republican 
forces split between Taft and Roosevelt, the Democrats were almost certain to 
win the Presidency. But to be sure of a victory after twenty-four years in the 
desert, they had to nominate an appealing progressive who could keep the liberal 


element behind the Democratic candidate and away from the lure of Roosevelt. 

William Jennings Bryan, whose Western followers held the balance of 
power, dramatized this issue by offering a resolution renouncing any candi- 
date under obligation to the "privilege-hunting and favor-seeking class." The 
Eastern conservatives and Tammany Hall stood firm. They tried to eliminate 
Wilson by publishing a letter in which Wilson had said some five years 
before that he wished Bryan might be knocked into a cocked hat. Their 
maneuver failed. Bryan knew better; he would not be swayed by such an ob- 
vious political trick. Ballot after ballot was taken, and still no decision. 
Champ Clark, the Senator of Missouri, commanded the majority of the votes, 
but he was not able to secure the support of two thirds of the delegates. When 
after the twelfth ballot Tammany Hall unequivocally came out for him, 
Bryan declared that he would not support a candidate blessed by Tammany 
Hall. This was the moment for Woodrow Wilson, who now renounced 
Tammany in a firm tone. Bryan swung behind Wilson, and the move for the 
nomination of the New Jersey governor was on. Still, not until the forty-sixth 
ballot could Wilson become the candidate of his party. 

The ensuing campaign was one of the most exciting in American presiden- 
tial history. Roosevelt battled for the Lord, Taft fought for political survival, 
and Wilson talked common sense. 

As a campaigner, Wilson could not match Roosevelt. He was not a glad- 
hander; he could not bring himself to slap backs or kiss babies; he admitted 
that his "Presbyterian face" photographed badly; he disliked the glib general- 
ities implicit in whistle-stop oratory. But what his speeches lacked in bombast 
they more than made up in sense, and his doctrine of the "New Freedom" 
held out the hope of an orderly program of reform which would make 
the government responsible to public opinion and would guarantee freedom 
from economic exploitation without recourse to radicalism. 

Though the election returns gave him only 42 per cent of the popular vote, 
the victory in the Electoral College was his. He heard the good news after a 
quiet evening at home, listening to his wife's reading of Browning's poems. 

Between his election and his inaugural in March of 1913, the President-elect 
and his advisers drew up the blueprints for a program that would translate the 
"New Freedom" into reality a program which was to include the first real 
tariff reduction in half a century, a strengthening of anti-trust legislation, 
establishment of the Federal Trade Commission, a stronger banking sys- 
tem, an eight-hour day for railway labor, and a host of other reforms. "The 
nation," Wilson declared in his deeply moving inaugural address, "has been 
deeply stirred by a solemn passion, stirred by the knowledge of wrong, of 
ideals lost, of government too often debauched and made an instrument 
of evil. The feelings with which we face this new age of right and opportunity 
sweep across our heartstrings like some air out of God's own presence, where 
justice and mercy are reconciled and the judge and the brother are as one." 

This was the new voice of the country, this was the new voice of progressiv- 
ism, this was the new voice which carried on the ideas of Theodore Roosevelt. 



GRANDPARENTS. James Wilson set sail from 
County Down, Ireland, in 1807. He met on the boat 
Anne Adams from Ulster; the two were married in 
Philadelphia the next year. A newspaper editor, he 
later founded the Pennsylvania Advocate at Pittsburgh. 

PARENTS. Joseph Ruggles Wilson started out as a 
printer, but because of his interest in the church 
became a Presbyterian minister. His wife, Janet 
(familiarly called Jessie), was born in England, her 
father, Thomas Woodrow, a Presbyterian minister. 

WILSON'S BIRTHPLACE, the Manse at Staunton, 
Virginia, where he was born on December 28, 1856. 
(He was born twenty-six months before Roosevelt.) 
Wilson always prided himself on being a Virginian, 
though his parents came from Ohio, his grandparents 
from Ireland and England, and his family moved 
less than a year after his birth to Augusta, Georgia. 

came a member of the faculty of the Presbyterian the- 
ological seminary in Columbia, the capital of South 
Carolina. Here Wilson (sitting before the pillar) grew 
up with two sisters and his brother. Three years later 
his father accepted a pastorate in Wilmington, N. C., 
and Woodrow Wilson entered Davidson College. 

The early life of Woodrow Wilson offered no promise of greatness. His childhood and 
adolescence were uneventful. Sent by his parents to Davidson College in North Carolina, 
he spent a year there, then entered Princeton, his father's alma mater. Graduating the 
year before Theodore Roosevelt received his degree from Harvard, he began the study 
of law at the University of Virginia, and hung out his shingle in Atlanta, Georgia, 




WILSON AND HIS WIFE. On June 24, 1885, 
Woodrow Wilson married Ellen Louise Axson, the 
daughter of a Presbyterian minister at Rome, Georgia. 
He was then 28; behind him were years of study in 
Princeton and the University of Virginia Law School 

University in the year of 1884. Wilson (standing 
second from the left) with members of the Glee Club. 
Though he rebelled against some of the courses re- 
quired for a doctorate in history, in the seminar led by 
Professor Herbert Adams his interest was revived, 
and he wrote Congressional Government his first book. 

where he was managing editor of the Princetonian. 
His marks were good but not outstanding. On the 
board of the newspaper were Charles A. Talcott, 
W. F. Magic, T. D. Warren, G. S.Johns standing; E. O. 
Roessle, Wilson, and H. B. Fine sitting. After leaving 
Princeton, he studied law at the University of Virginia. 

in 1882. But a year of unremunerative practice convinced him that he was not suited 
for the career of a lawyer. Wanting to become a teacher, he enrolled at Johns Hopkins 
University to earn the degree of Ph.D. Two important events both occurring in 1885 
augured well for his future: the writing of a book on Congressional Government and his 
marriage to Ellen Louise Axson, the daughter of a Presbyterian minister in Georgia. 



In 1885, the very year that Wilson married Ellen 
Axson, he became Associate Professor of history at 
Bryn Mawr. He soon came to the conclusion that 
the teaching of women was irksome and not to his 
liking. The following year (June 1886) he earned his 
Ph.D. degree at Johns Hopkins University. For two 
more years he stayed at Bryn Mawr, leaving there in 
September 1888, when he happily accepted a teach- 
ing assignment at Wesleyan University in Middle- 
town, Connecticut, delighted to have men students. 


In 1890 Wilson became Professor of jurisprudence 
and political economy at Princeton. He was content 
in his post. Besides teaching, he wrote books and 
articles. Several colleges and universities asked him 
to become their president, but he declined all offers. 
In 1902 he was elected president of Princeton, where 
he introduced the preceptorial system and a plan for 
departmentalized and co-ordinated study, as well as 
pressing for a quadrangle plan of housing for the 
student body, to eliminate the snobbish eating clubs. 


THE WILSON FAMILY. The Wilsons with their 
three daughters: Eleanor Randolph, who later mar- 


In the tempestuous 1910 election 
when the Republican progressives 
battled against President Taft 
and the standpatters, the Demo- 
crats emerged victorious. With a 
large majority Woodrow Wilson 
was elected to the governorship 
of New Jersey a stepping stone 
to the Presidency. 

In the photograph Wilson is 
behind his desk at his Trenton 
office. Next to him stands his 
secretary, Joseph P. Tumulty. Sit- 
ting on the left is William Bayard 
Hale, later a Wilson biographer. 

ried William Gibbs McAdoo, Margaret, and Jessie 
Woodrow, later the wife of Francis Bowes Sayre. 



Taft was relieved that his troubles were over. He 
cared little for the Presidency and was not sorry to 
leave the White House. He loathed the fight and 
the scramble for political power. He liked peace. 

His defeat was complete. Wilson won the election, 
carrying forty out of the forty-eight states, with 
6,293,019 votes. Taft received only 3,484,956, and 
Roosevelt who had put him in the Presidency and 
then opposed him had 4,119,507 votes. The Re- 
publican party was in shambles; the new man of the 
hour was Woodrow Wilson. 

After twenty-four years of Republican rule, Wilson 
was the first Democratic President, and the first 
President since Abraham Lincoln to be born in a 
southern state. He saw "the vision of a new day," 
and he knew that his work was "a work of restoration. " 

In his inaugural he indicted the previous admin- 
istration: "The great government we love has too 
often been made use of for private and selfish pur- 
poses and those who used it have forgotten the people. 
There has been something crude, heartless and un- 
feeling in our effort to succeed and be great; our 
thought has been, let every man look out for himself; 
let every generation look out for itself." 

The new President held out for a better and more 
abundant life. "This is not a day of triumph," he 
said in his moving inaugural address, "it is a day of 
dedication. Here muster not the forces of party but 
the forces of humanity. Men's hearts must wait upon 
us; men's lives hang in the balance; men's hopes 
call upon us to say what we will do. Who shall live 
up to the great trust? Who dares to try it? I summon 
all honest men, all patriotic, all forward-looking 
men to my side. God helping me, I will not fail them 
if they will but counsel and sustain me." 


ONE MORE, PLEASE! asked the pho- 
tographers as Taft and Wilson faced the 
battery of cameras before leaving the 
White House for the inaugural ceremonies 
on the morning of March 4, 1913. 

Taft in one of his last pictures as President is 
his usual jovial self, while Wilson not yet accus- 
tomed to manipulating his face for the public 
appears ill at ease. He may have been thinking of 
the limerick he was so fond of quoting: 

For beauty I am not a star, 

There are hundreds more handsome by far, 

But my face I don't mind it, 

For I am behind it, 

It's the people in front that I jar. 



inaugural address the new President spoke of "the things that ought to be altered." He spoke 
of the "tariff which cuts us off from our proper part in the commerce of the world . . . and 
makes the government a facile instrument in the hands of private interests"; he spoke of 
the banking and currency system, which was in need of overhauling, and he spoke of the 
"industrial system which . , . holds capital in leading strings, restricts the liberties and limits 
the opportunities of labor, and exploits without renewing or conserving the natural 
resources of the country." 

Wilson presented an ambitious New Freedom program to be accomplished within the 
framework of the existing social system. Based not only on Populist and progressive ideas, 
but also on Roosevelt's New Nationalism, it was a long-awaited program, a signal 
program of reform* "We must abolish everything," said Wilson in his first message to 
Congress, "that bears even the semblance of privilege or any kind of artificial advantage." 




The defeat of 1912 shattered him, but outwardly he acted as if it were of no 
great consequence that he had lost the fight. To the sympathy notes of his 
friends he replied with unshaken confidence. "We have fought the good fight, 
we have kept the faith, and we have nothing to regret," he wrote to James 
Garfield. "As things were this year, there was no human being who could have 
made any fight or have saved the whole movement from collapse if I had not 
been willing to step in and take the hammering," he said to Arthur Hamilton 
Lee. "It was a phenomenal thing to be able to bring the new party into second 
place and to beat out the Republicans," he wrote to Henry White. 

Still, this was the greatest defeat of his career. Success had now abandoned 
him and he had to contend with failure. Abused by the regulars for smashing 
the party, shunned by former friends and assailed by enemies, he was learning 
the bitter experience of defeat. There was no more surge to shake his hand when 
he attended a public function. Once when he went with a friend to a meeting 
of the Harvard Board of Overseers, the atmosphere was so chilly toward them 
that they felt "like a pair of Airedale pups in a convention of tomcats." 

A weaker man would have been crushed under it, but Roosevelt never a 
contemplative character would not moan over the past. For him there was 
always the tomorrow. He was always full of plans, there was always work 
ahead of him. He began to work on his Autobiography, and he collaborated with 
Edmund Heller, the naturalist from the Smithsonian Institution, on the Life 
Histories of African Game Animals. 

He instituted a libel suit against a small country newspaper editor in Michi- 
gan, who charged him with drunkenness. Throughout his political career he 
was often angered by people accusing him of being a heavy drinker. During 
the Progressive campaign when rumors again went the rounds about this, he 
made up his mind to fight them as soon as he had a clear case. Thus, when 
the Old Guard newspaper editor George A. Newett repeated the charge in 
print, Roosevelt brought suit, to squelch the lie once and for all. 

The case was tried at Marquette, Michigan, the last week of May 1913. For 
five days, witness after witness testified that they had never seen Roosevelt in- 
toxicated. His former secretary, William Loeb, Jr., told the jury that his chief 
could not have been drunk during the past fifteen years without his knowing 
it, yet he never saw him show any effects of alcohol. The Chicago newspaper- 
man O'Laughlin testified: "I not only never have seen Colonel Roosevelt under 
the influence of liquor but it is an absolutely silly thing to me that anybody 
should bring such a charge against him." 


Roosevelt himself told the court: "I have never drunk a cocktail or highball 
in my life. ... I never drank whisky or brandy except under the advice of a 
physician. I don't care for the taste of either. 

"I don't smoke and I don't drink beer. I dislike smoking and dislike the taste 
of beer. I never have drunk whisky or brandy except when the doctor prescribed 
it, or possibly on some occasion after great exposure when I was chilled 
through. But it has been certainly fifteen or twenty years since I have drunk 
it because of being chilled through." 

The newspaper editor, unable to produce a single witness against Roosevelt, 
retracted his charges and offered an apology. Roosevelt, who had only brought 
the suit to "deal with these slanders so that never again will they be repeated," 
requested only nominal damages in the amount of six cents, and these were 
awarded to him. "I deemed it best not to demand money damages," he said 
after the trial. "The man is a country editor, and while I thoroughly despise 
him, I do not care to seem to prosecute him." 

It was a few days before he left for Michigan to attend the trial that he wrote 
to his niece's husband in Washington. Young Franklin Delano Roosevelt, the 
recipient of the note, had become Assistant Secretary of the Navy two months 
earlier, and now Theodore Roosevelt sent him a letter of advice. "It is not my 
place to advise, but there is one matter so vital that I want to call your atten- 
tion to it. I do not anticipate trouble with Japan, but it may come, and if it 
does it will come suddenly. In that case we shall be in an unpardonable 
position if we permit ourselves to be caught with our fleet separated. There 
ought not to be a battleship or any formidable fighting craft in the Pacific un- 
less our entire fleet is in the Pacific. Russia's fate ought to be a warning for all 
time as to the criminal folly of dividing the fleet if there is even the remotest 
chance of war." Franklin agreed wholeheartedly with "Uncle Theodore's" 
suggestion not to divide the fleet, and asked the elder Roosevelt to write a 
magazine article about it. 

During the summer of 1913, invitations for speeches came from universities 
in Brazil, Argentina, and Chile. Eager for action, Roosevelt accepted them. 
He would go to South America, give the requested addresses, then take a trip 
into the jungle, proving once more that he had not yet become old and that 
he still had the prowess and the strength as of yore. 

On October 5 the New York Tribune reported: "Colonel Roosevelt, with his 
party of six, sailed on his South American trip yesterday by the Lamport & 
Holt liner Vandyck, which left Pier 8, Brooklyn, at 1 P.M. 

"There was a crowd to see him sail, but it was not the same sort of throng 
that congested ship and pier in Hoboken when the colonel started out on his 
African junket on March 23, 1909." 

The party included Mrs. Roosevelt, Kermit, the Reverend John A. Zahn, 
provincial of the Order of the Holy Cross, and the scientists George K. Cherries 
and Anthony Fiala. 

The lectures taken care of, Mrs. Roosevelt returned to the States, and the 
expedition augmented by Colonel Rondon and two Brazilian engineers 
was on its way into unexplored territory. On January 16, 1914, Roosevelt 


wrote to Frank Michler Chapman: "We are now about to go into the real 
wilderness, where we shall have to travel light, and can hardly collect any big 
animals. In a month or six weeks we shall reach the headwaters of an un- 
explored river. If my health continues good, as I expect, I think it possible that 
I will go down this river to try and find out where it comes out, taking 
Kermit, Fiala and Cherries with me as well as Colonel Rondon and two of 
the Brazilians." 

His aim was to collect animal and botanical specimens for New York's 
Museum of Natural History and to map the River of Doubt, an unexplored 
tributary of the Amazon, flowing for almost a thousand miles from lower 
Brazil north to that river. It was a perilous voyage, and when it was over, 
Roosevelt reported: "We have had a hard and somewhat dangerous but very 
successful trip. No less than six weeks were spent in slowly and with peril and 
exhausting labor forcing our way down through what seemed a literally end- 
less succession of rapids and cataracts. For forty-eight days we saw no human 
being. In passing these rapids we lost five of the seven canoes with which we 
started and had to build others. One of our best men lost his life in the rapids. 
Under the strain one of the men went completely bad, shirked all his work, 
stole his comrades' food and when punished by the sergeant he with cold- 
blooded deliberation murdered the sergeant and fled into the wilderness. Col. 
Rondon's dog, running ahead of him while hunting, was shot by two Indians; 
by his death he in all probability saved the life of his master. We have put on 
the map a river about 1500 kilometers in length running from just south of 
the 13th degree to north of the 5th degree and the biggest affluent of the 
Madeira. Until now its upper course has been utterly unknown to everyone, 
and its lower course although known for years to the rubber-men utterly un- 
known to all cartographers. Its source is between the 12th and 13th parallels 
of latitude South, and between longitude 59 and longitude 60 west from 

Mile after mile, the unnavigable rapids were mastered by portages through 
thick jungle growth. Roosevelt was badly hurt when his leg was jammed be- 
tween a canoe and a rock in the river. Unable to walk, he had to be carried 
by his companions. And then he contracted jungle fever and could not be 
moved at all. With the supply of food at a low ebb, he begged the others to 
leave him behind, a request which fell on deaf ears. As the trip came to its 
close Roosevelt was 35 pounds thinner. 

On May 19, 1914, after seven and a half months in South America, he 
landed in New York. A newspaper reported that he was "leaning heavily on 
a cane, and assisted by two men, toiled up the gangway from the landing place. 
It was a shock to his old friends, to whom his unusual physical vigor had been 
always a source of wonder, to note the change." Yet ten days later he was on 
a boat again, sailing to his son Kermit's wedding in Spain. 



ROOSEVELT SUES FOR LIBEL. During the Progressive campaign rumors spread that 
the Colonel was a heavy drinker. Exasperated by such accusations, Roosevelt made up his 
mind that if the charge was repeated in print, he would sue the perpetrator of the slander. 
Thus, when the Iron Ore, a small weekly in Ishpeming, Michigan, printed on October 12, 
1912: "Roosevelt lies and curses in a most disgusting way; he gets drunk too, and that not 
infrequently, and all his intimate friends know about it," the hurt and thoroughly angered 
victim brought a libel action against the editor of the paper, George S. Newett. 

ON THE STAND Roosevelt 
testified: "I do not drink either 
whiskey or brandy, except as I 
shall hereafter say . . .; I do not 
drink beer; I sometimes drink 
light wine. ... I have never 
drunk a highball or a cocktail in 
my life. ... I may have drunk 
half a dozen mint juleps in a 
year. ... At home, at dinner, I 
may partake of a glass or two 
glasses of white wine. At a public 
dinner, or a big dinner, I will 
take a glass or two glasses of 
champagne. ... In Africa the 
expedition took with it a caae 
of champagne, a case of whis- 
key and a bottle of brandy." 





THE WINNER. A cartoon by Spencer in the Omaha World Herald on May 27, 1913, 
alluding to the publicity value of the suit against a man whose name no one remembered. 
Before the court at Marquette, Michigan, scores of witnesses testified that Roosevelt never 
drank except with moderation. Editor George S. Newett, the defendant in the libej action, 
was not able to produce a single witness who gould testify otherwise; he had to admit that 
he was not only misinformed, but was wrong and, in effect, offered an apology. Roosevelt 
asked for but nominal damages, emphasizing that he had brought suit only to deal with 
the slanders, "so that never again will it be possible for any man, in good faith, to repeat 
them." He won his case; the court assessed six cents damages against the slandering editor. 



>36tH<&".& ... : " "- ' . '.'.'.: v'-^V ':;. 


"I had to go," said Roosevelt. "It was my last chance 
to be a boy." So he went. The expedition left New 
York on October 4, 1913, and returned on May 19, 
1914. His son Kermit, who accompanied him on the 
journey, left a record of these seven and a half dra- 
matic months in his book The Happy Hunting Grounds. 
At the request of the Brazilian government, the 
scope of the expedition was enlarged. The party 
fought their way through the uncharted regions of 
western Brazil and mapped the River of Doubt, until 
then an unexplored stream. (Later it was renamed 

Rio T6odoro.) From the outset the expedition was 
under an ill star. One of the men drowned, another 
went crazy and killed his companion. When the food 
supply ran out, the men ate what their guns provided 
and what they could take from the water and from 
the trees. Tropical downpours drenched them daily, 
their clothes drying on their backs. 

In the first week of April, Roosevelt contracted 
jungle fever. Still, he kept on. One day, in an 
attempt to save a pair of canoes, he again injured 
the leg which had been hurt a dozen years earlier 


HIS BIGGEST BAG was a tremendous bull ele- 
phant which he shot at Meru. Photograph by Kermit 

TWO OF HIS VICTIMS, a rhinoceros and a 
bustard, were brought down by him at the same spot 


in the Pittsficld accident. Abscesses developed on the 
leg, causing him excruciating pain. Believing that his 
presence only hindered the expedition, he told his son 
Kermit: "We have reached a point where some of us 
must stop. I feel I am only a burden to the party," 
and suggested that he should be left behind and 
abandoned in the jungle. This was Roosevelt the 
romantic, Roosevelt the heroic, Roosevelt the dra- 
matic, ready to give up life and die a lonely death to 
avoid being a burden to his associates. But Kermit 
and the others brought him down the river to safety. 

"I DID MY WRITING in headnet and gauntlets." 
Some of his South American pieces for Scribner's Maga- 
zine were written when he had a temperature of 105. 


Roosevelt was given a hero's welcome when he returned from his South 
American expedition. News photographers caught him smiling, but it was 
a forced smile. He was worn out, almost too weak to stand on his feet. The 
fever contracted in the jungle left him tired and exhausted, "a veritable 
plague of deep abscesses" caused him pain, his leg wound bothered him. 
He was longing for his home and for a rest. During the period in the jungle 
he had lost 35 pounds, of which 25 were regained on the homeward trip; 
but with fever germs still in his body, he was a sick and frail man. 



The very week that Roosevelt returned from his son's wedding in Spain, a 
Serbian nationalist in Sarajevo, Bosnia, fired a shot that set the world afire. 
From June 28, 1914, the day of the assassination of the Austrian Archduke 
Franz Ferdinand, the precarious structure of great-power alliance In Europe 
tottered in the balance. A month later it erupted in a world cataclysm which 
Roosevelt had helped to stave off at the Algeciras Conference nine years earlier. 

In America the country's opinion was best expressed by Senator John Sharp 
Williams, who said that he was "mad all over, down to the very bottom of my 
shoes, at this outbreak of senseless war." Yet the nation's official position 
remained that of neutrality. President Wilson asked every man and woman to 
be "impartial in thought as well as in action." 

At first Roosevelt shared Wilson's determination to avoid America's entangle- 
ment in the European war. "Only the clearest and most urgent national duty," 
he wrote in The Outlook, "would ever justify us in deviating from our rule 
of neutrality and non-interference." But as the summer waned and Americans 
became war-minded, so did Roosevelt. Writing his old friend Cecil Spring-Rice, 
now British Ambassador at Washington, he said: "If I had been President, I 
should have acted on the thirtieth or thirty-first of July, as head of a signatory 
power to the Hague treaties, calling attention to the guaranty of Belgium's 
neutrality and saying that I accepted the treaties as imposing a serious obliga- 
tion which I expected not only the United States but all other neutral nations 
to join in enforcing. Of course I would not have made such a statement unless 
I was willing to back it up." In his articles for the Metropolitan Magazine and in 
his addresses he spoke of America's international duty and its obligation to 
aid the weak. 

Despite the initial revulsion to the war, American "neutrality in thought" 
proved impossible to maintain. The bonds of language, of temperament, of 
tradition, and of economics were strong between the United States and the 
mother country. With the exception of the Germans and the Irish, the sym- 
pathies of the country were with Great Britain in the struggle. 

The anti-German feeling increased as the atrocities of Germany's unrestricted 
submarine warfare became publicized. Americans learned with shock and 
horror that the British liner Lusitania, carrying munitions and passengers to 
England, was torpedoed off the coast of Ireland with the loss of 1 100 lives, 
many of them Americans. President Wilson sent a vigorous protest to the 
German government so vigorous indeed that William Jennings Bryan, who 
held that Americans should be forbidden to travel on the armed ships of 


belligerents, resigned as Secretary of State rather than associate himself with 
what he feared would prove an ultimatum. 

After the sinking of the Lusitania, Roosevelt said that the United States 
would earn "measureless scorn and contempt if we follow the lead of those who 
exalt peace above righteousness, if we heed the voice of the feeble folk who 
bleat to high heaven for peace when there is no peace." Yet Wilson was con- 
vinced that the nation as a whole was not ready to go to war. "There is such 
a thing as a nation being so right that it does not need to convince others by 
force that it is right," he said in an oft-quoted speech. 

For Roosevelt, America's failure to act against Germany was "literally inex- 
cusable and inexplicable." He attacked Wilson: "To treat elocution as a sub- 
stitute for action, to rely upon high-sounding words unbacked by deeds, 
is proof of a mind that dwells only in the realm of shadow and shame." 

Still, in the summer of 1916 the issue whether America should enter the war 
or not became a secondary one as the country's attention turned to the nomi- 
nating conventions. The Democrats renominated President Wilson; the Repub- 
licans chose Charles Evans Hughes. Roosevelt, who had previously declined 
the nomination of the moribund Progressive party, rallied behind the Repub- 
lican candidate and campaigned for him, though his support of the uninspiring 
Hughes was not as enthusiastic as it would have been had his party chosen a 
more effective man. 

By an exceedingly slim margin Wilson, who had "kept us out of war," was 
upheld by the voters. Yet even before he could be inaugurated, Germany 
informed the United States that all merchant vessels within prescribed zones 
of the Atlantic and Mediterranean would be sunk without warning. This 
meant the end of Wilson's neutrality policy. 

Diplomatic relations with Germany were severed. Wilson still had some 
hope that "armed neutrality" might be feasible and that America would not 
have to enter the conflict. Roosevelt knew better: "There is no question 
of 'going to war.' Germany is already at war with us. The only question 
is whether we shall make war nobly or ignobly." In February and March, Ger- 
many sank eight American ships, and, as if this were not enough, the British 
exposed a German plot for bringing Mexico and Japan into war against 
America. The patience of the United States was exhausted. On April 2 Presi- 
dent Wilson asked Congress to put America into the fight "for democracy, for 
the right of those who submit to authority to have a voice in their own 
governments, for the rights and liberties of small nations, for a universal 
dominion of right by such a concert of free peoples as shall bring peace and 
safety to all nations, and make the world itself at last free." Four days later 
Congress declared war. 

Roosevelt pointed out that Wilson's war message "bears out all I have said 
for the past two and a half years, and condemns all he has said and done for 
those two and a half years." With America at war, his consuming desire was 
to raise a division of his own to take to the front. Since the fall of 1914 he had 
been making plans for a new edition of the Rough Riders, and he sent to Sec- 


retary of War Newton D. Baker an outline of the proposal. Baker replied that 
it would be considered "should the occasion arise." Now that war had actually 
come, Roosevelt, putting his pride in his pocket, repaired to Washington to 
discuss the issue with the President himself. The conversation was amicable; 
Wilson was charmed with his antagonist. Yet he would not promise Roosevelt 
what he asked for; he would not send him to Europe at the head of a division. 
"The business now in hand is undramatic, practical, and of scientific definite- 
ness and precision," he explained later. For Roosevelt, the President's decision 
of not allowing him to go to the front "was actuated by the basest and most 
contemptible political reasons," and his hatred for Wilson grew. 

Not being able to serve his country on the battlefield, he kept on writing 
articles, kept on making speeches, throwing himself wholeheartedly into the 
task of stimulating the country's martial spirit. He urged Americans to action, 
he denounced the "folly and complacent sloth" of the Wilson administration, 
which in his opinion had achieved "a miracle of inefficiency" through the lack 
of an adequate preparedness program. Exasperated that he could only talk or 
write when "it is only the doers who really count," he wrote to his son Theodore 
that "the Administration has no conception of war needs, of what war means. 
... If three years ago we had introduced universal military training, if we had 
begun to build quantities of cannon, machine guns, rifles and airplanes . . . 
the war would have been over now." He kept on hammering on the issue of 
preparedness, he kept on urging the speeding up of the war effort and 
the establishment of universal military training as a permanent policy. 

On the floor of the Senate he was described as "the most potent agent the 
Kaiser has in America." The Hearst newspapers asked for his imprisonment, 
to which he retaliated that it was Hearst who had helped the German cause, 
therefore it was the newspaper editor who should be executed. 

Though he was sharply criticized by a great segment of the American public, 
the fact remains that his emotional appeal, his sincerity and deep devotion to 
his country helped to prepare the United States for the day when she was to 
enter into the hostilities. 

He took profound pride in his four sons, who joined the ranks and served at 
the front with conspicuous bravery. Theodore, Jr., was wounded and twice cited 
for gallantry; Kermit won the British Military Cross; Archibald was wounded 
and won the Croix de Guerre; and Quentin became a combat aviator. He was 
proud when Finley Peter Dunne told him: "The first thing you know your four 
sons will put the name of Roosevelt on the map!" 

In July 1918 the news came that Quentin, the youngest of the boys, had been 
shot down behind German lines by two enemy fighter planes. 

The death of his youngest son was a crushing blow to him, a blow from which 
he never recovered. Gone forever was his youthful ebullience, gone forever his 
vigor and his energy. He was feeble and he was tired; old age knocked at the 
door. In October of that year, when he became sixty years old, he wrote to his 
son Kermit that he was "glad to be sixty, for it somehow gives me the right to 
be titularly as old as I feel." 


A PRODIGIOUS READER, he was seldom without break from work, he read amongst a crowd, and he 
a book. He read on his travels, he read when he took a read when he was alone. His literary taste had a wide 




On June 28, 1914, Archduke Franz Ferdinand, the 
heir to the throne of the Austro-Hungarian empire, 
and his wife were shot to death in Sarejevo, Bosnia, 
by a Pan-Slav nationalist. 

A fortnight later the council of Austro-Hungarian 
ministers assured by "the complete support of Ger- 
many" was ready to take action against Serbia. 
On July 23 an ultimatum was sent to Serbia, six 
days later war was declared. On August 3 Germany 
began war against France, on August 4 Great 
Britain took up arms against Germany, on August 5 
the Russian army marched into Germany. Within 
days the great European powers were facing each 
other on the battlefield in a world holocaust. 


Princip, is rushed away by the police after his deed. 

range. The book he reads here with such 
concentration is Booth Tarkington's Penrod, 




The first days in August the German armies invaded Belgium and pressed toward Paris. On 
August 5 President Wilson announced that the attitude of the United States in the conflict 
would be that of neutrality. 

The German invasion was accepted by official America; it was accepted by Theodore 
Roosevelt. "When giants arc engaged in a death wrestle," he wrote in The Outlook on 
August 22, 1914, "as they reel to and fro they are certain to trample on whomever gets in 
the way of either of the huge straining combatants." Roosevelt held that the invasion was 
justified as a strategic necessity. At the outset of the European war Roosevelt referred to the 
Germans as "a stern, virile and masterful people, a people entitled to hearty respect for 
their patriotism and far-seeking self-devotion" for whom one could have nothing but 
"praise and admiration." 

He did not censure the Germans for their destruction of Louvain and the irreplaceable 
library. He did not raise his voice against the German bombardment of Antwerp. He felt 



that Americans had "not the slightest responsibility" for what happened in Belgium, even 
though the country on the whole sympathized with that state. "Nevertheless this sympathy 
is compatible with full knowledge of the unwisdom of uttering a single word of official pro- 
test unless we are prepared to make the protest effective; and only the clearest and most 
urgent national duty would ever justify us in deviating from our rule of neutrality and non- 

A year later in 191 5 when he published his first war book, Roosevelt altered the above 
passage. By that time he opposed Wilson's neutrality policy; by that time he was convinced 
that America must pay the penalty for its "supine inaction" by forfeiting the right to do 
anything on behalf of peace for the Belgians. 

Roosevelt was honest about both passages. He felt strongly about them. His emotions 
underwent a change as American public opinion changed. With the continuation of the 
war, Roosevelt- along with his fellow countrymen was lined up behind the Allied cause. 




Before the elections in 1914, 
Roosevelt tried to unite the two 
opposing wings of his party behind 
an honest gubernatorial candidate 
for New York. Attacking the 
state's Republican boss, William 
Barnes, Roosevelt said that he 
was as crooked as his Democratic 
counterpart and asserted that 
"the two bosses will always be 
found on the same side openly or 
covertly, giving one another such 
support as can with safety be 
rendered." Barnes initiated a libel 
suit against Roosevelt next day. 



master craftsman Rollin Kirby for the New York 
World. The top one appeared in the newspaper on 
April 1 2, 1 9 1 5, the bottom one was printed on April 24. 

* ' ^v,..:^v;j^ 
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: '"^''v7 

April 1915 in Syracuse, New York, keeping the coun- 
try spellbound. Roosevelt was on the stand for hours, 
weathering the attacks and cross-examination of 
Barnes's attorneys. At times he burst out in tirades and 
the judge had to stop him. During a cross-examination 
he firmly asserted that during his presidential years he 
compromised much less than did President Lincoln. 

ing the Barnes trial with his counsel, Oliver D. Burden. 

The Barnes attorney took this up. "You stand by 

righteousness, do you not?" he asked. 
"I do," answered Roosevelt. 
"With due regard to opportunism . . .?" 
"No, sir, not when it comes to righteousness." 
"Does not your last answer state that?" 
"It does not, sir. I say I believe emphatically that 

you must have a due regard for opportunism in the 

choice of the time and methods for making the attack. 

But you must stand for righteousness, whether you 

are going to be supported or not." 

Boss Barnes lost the case. The jury believed 

Roosevelt's remarks were just, and acquitted him. 



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1915, outraged the American people. Theodore 
Roosevelt demanded firm action, but the country 
was behind President Wilson, who advocated pa- 
tience. America had no desire to embark on a war, 
however strong the provocations were. 

The country on the whole sympathized with the 
Allies, although the large German population and 
some of the other foreign-borns were for the German 
cause. Wilson and Congress, sensing the country's 
attitude, pleaded for time. The President embarked 
on a lengthy diplomatic correspondence with Ger- 
many. On May 13, on June 9, and again on July 21 
he dispatched notes demanding from the German 
government an outspoken disavowal of the Lusitania's 
destruction and a pledge that attacks on unresisting 
non-combatants would cease. When the answer of the 
Germans proved "very unsatisfactory," the President 
warned that the sinking of unarmed merchant vessels 
would be regarded by the United States as a "deliber- 
ately unfriendly" act an open threat of war. Wil- 
son's diplomatic correspondence brought results. For 
about a year, while the notes went to and fro between 
the two nations, Germany refrained from attack- 
ing merchant vessels without warning. During that 
time the horror of unrestricted submarine warfare 
was lifted and the precarious peace maintained. 

WILSON AND HIS HELPERS. A cartoon by Rollin 
Kirby (July 13, 1915) picturing William Jennings 
Bryan and Roosevelt "helping the President." 



And a German warning in the same column 
of the New York Herald of May 1, 1915. 

"MURDER ON THE HIGH SEAS" was Roosevelt's angry comment on the sinking of 
the British mailship Lusitania when German submarines torpedoed her on May 7, 1915, off 
Kinsdale Head on the Irish coast. Of 1918 persons aboard the liner, only 726 were saved. 
Among the 114 Americans who lost their lives were sportsman Alfred Gwynne Vanderbilt, 
theatrical producer Charles Frohman, dramatist Charles Klein, author filbert Hubbard. 

Roosevelt pleaded for strong action, asking for the seizure of all interned German ships 
and the prohibition of commerce with Germany. "I do not believe that the firm assertion 
of our rights means war, but, in any event, it is well to remember there are things worse 
than war." 

Three days after the sinking of the Lusitania, Wilson spoke in Philadelphia on American 
ideals. "The example of America must be the example not merely of peace because it will 
not fight, but of peace because peace is the healing and elevating influence of the world and 
strife is not/' said he. "There is such a thing as a nation being so right that it does not 
need to convince others by force that it is right . . . There is such a thing as a man being 
too proud to fight." 

Wilson's phrase was taken up by his enemies, who attacked him with renewed vigor. "What 
a pity Theodore Roosevelt is not President," headlined the New York Herald. Roosevelt ad- 
vocated preparedness, so America should be ready in the event of war, but neither Wilson 
nor Congress would accept such a policy. It was argued that preparedness would mean the 
end of neutrality, and the country was not yet ready for war. 

Roosevelt denounced Wilson as "the pacifist hero" whose followers were "professional 
pacifists, the flubdubs and the mollycoddles." Ignoring these exaggerated attacks, Wilson 
said: "The way to treat an adversary like Roosevelt is to gaze at the stars over his head." 


URGING PREPAREDNESS. The leader of the preparedness movement was Roosevelt's 
old friend General Leonard Wood, under whom he served in the Spanish-American War, 
The General, supported by private organizations, was the head of a summer training camp 
at Plattsburg, N. Y., where students, businessmen, and other volunteers received a short 
military training. All four of Roosevelt's sons were there for instruction. The widely publi- 
cized but not too effectual "Plattsburg idea" served well in one respect it infused the 
young men of America with the thought that sooner or later they would have to fight. 

On August 25, 1915, when the picture below was taken, Roosevelt came to Plattsburg 
at the invitation of General Wood to address the young men in the camp. He made a re- 
strained speech, without attacking Wilson. But in the evening, as he left the camp, he told 
the newspapermen that the people of the country should stand behind the President only 
when he was right, but against him when he was wrong a dangerous idea which, if fol- 
lowed, could only lead to anarchy. 

Roosevelt much to the amusement of the newspapermen, who reported it next day 
pointed to a little dog that ran into him but retreated and remained quiet. "I like him," 
Roosevelt said with sarcastic intent; "his present attitude is strictly one of neutrality." 



A photograph taken at Oyster Bay during the 
1916 camoaiffn bv Gonkwriffht and Winn. N.Y. 


THE 1916 CAMPAIGN brought the Progressives 
back into the Republican fold. Roosevelt somewhat 
reluctantly endorsed Hughes and campaigned 
against Wilson, the man who "kept us out of war." 
In his speeches Roosevelt charged that Wilson 

would never stand up to the Germans. He said tha 
if he had been President when the Lusitania wa 
sunk, he would have seized every German vessel in 
terned in American waters. Reporters questions 
Hughes whether he would have done the same, bu 



"the gray iceberg" gave an evasive answer. 

Roosevelt's last speech was an emotional appeal 
against Wilson. "There should be shadows now at 
Shadow Lawn, [the home of Wilson in New Jersey] 
the shadows of the men, women, and children who 

have risen from the ooze of the ocean bottom and 
from graves in foreign lands; the shadows of the 
helpless whom Mr. Wilson did not dare protect lest 
he might have to face danger. ..." 

It was of no avail; Wilson won the election. 



The last day of January 1917 Count von Bernstorff, 
the German Ambassador, notified the State Depart- 
ment that his country had instituted zones in the 
Mediterranean and around the British Isles, and 
that within these zones all neutral shipping would be 
destroyed if it carried contraband. One clearly 
marked American vessel would be allowed to sail 
weekly in each direction. As the United States would 
not tolerate such restriction, the German Ambassa- 
dor was handed his passport. On February 3 diplo- 
matic relations between the two countries came to 
an end. 

Three weeks later came the news of an intercepted 
telegram to Mexico, in which Germany offered the 
states of Texas, Arizona, and New Mexico if Mexico 
would invade the United States. 

In March, German submarines sank American 
vessels without warning. This meant war. On April 
2 President Wilson told Congress that a state of 
war existed between the United States and Germany. 


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THREE DAYS AFTER AMERICA ENTERED THE WAR, Roosevelt saw President Wilson in Wash- 
ington and asked him for permission to recruit a volunteer division. For the Colonel, time seemed to stand 
still. Nineteen years had gone by since he had led the Rough Riders against the Spaniards in Cuba, and 
now nineteen years later he desired to lead a regiment against the Germans in France. 

The interview with Wilson was paved by the young man who had married Roosevelt's niece and who 
was now Assistant Secretary of the P^avy Franklin Delano Roosevelt. He spoke to Secretary of War 
Newton D. Baker, and Baker called on Roosevelt at Alice Longworth's Washington home. Roosevelt 
talked of his hopes to go to war. "I am aware," he said, "that I have not had enough experience to lead 
a division myself. But I have selected the most experienced officers from the regular army for my staff." 
Ail he wanted was to fight. 

On April 9 Roosevelt went to the White House and had an hour's talk with Wilson. He complimented 
the President on his war message, and the two men had a friendly talk. Wilson was charmed. "There is a 
sweetness about him that is very compelling. You can't resist the man," said he to his secretary, Tumulty, 
after the visitor left. As to Roosevelt's request the President was noncommittal. Roosevelt, who declared 
that he would never oppose Wilson if he were allowed to go to Europe, told newspapermen on his leaving 
the White House that he had great hopes the President would acquiesce to his request. 

Yet no word came from Wilson. When the governor of Louisiana interceded on Roosevelt's behalf, the 
President replied: "Colonel Roosevelt is a splendid man and a patriotic citizen . . . but he is not a military 
leader. His experience in military life has been extremely short. He and many of the men with him are 
too old to render effective service, and ... he as well as others have shown intolerance of discipline." 



American troops marching into Europe 
to fisrht on the side of the Allies. 

SPEAKING AT PATRIOTIC MEETINGS. He made speeches under the auspices of the 
National Security League, he spoke on Americanism, he spoke for the Red Cross, he spoke 
for everything that helped the war effort. In September 1917 he journeyed west, and spoke 
at large rallies in Kansas City, Chicago, and St. Paul, urging a determined and speedy offen- 
sive. He attacked Wilson and the administration for America's military inadequacy. During 
this period he often sounded like a demagogue. At times his speeches embraced a political 
philosophy to which a later generation gave the name "fascism." 

His exaggerations at times bordered on intolerance. Thus, he spoke against foreign-bom 
revolutionaries, as against socialists and radicals. His speeches, writes John M. Blum, "fed the 
spirit that expressed itself in lynchings, amateur witch hunts, intolerance of every kind. And 
he mixed his hateful talk with his awful cult of purging society by sacrifice in war and his 

ardent advocacy of compulsory peacetime industrial service for young men and women 

He disgraced not just his own but his nation's reputation." It was a sorrowful spectacle. 


THE AMERICANS IN FRANCE. On May 18, 1917, President Wilson ordered an expe- 
ditionary force of one division under command of General John J. Pershing to proceed to 
France. On June 13 the first American combat troops sailed from New York, arriving in 
Europe twelve days later. And while prohibition went into effect in South Dakota, while 
more than 100 Negroes were killed and wounded in a race riot at St. Louis, while in the 
shipyards of Hoboken and New York the machinists and boiler-makers began a strike for a 
$4.50 minimum daily wage, General Pershing marched with American troops through the 
streets of Paris on July 4. Two days later Pershing cabled his superiors in Washington: 
"Plans should contemplate sending over at least one million men by next May." Yet by 
January 1, 1918, General Pershing had only one depot division and four combat divisions 
in France. Again he urged the War Department to send more troops and more equipment. 
"The Allies are very weak and we must come to their relief in this year, 1918. The year 
after may be too late." Roosevelt's four sons were with the American Expeditionary Force. 


QUENTIN, the youngest of the Roosevelt chil- 
dren, was killed in an aerial battle on July 14, 
1918, his plane crashing behind the German lines. 


Quentin's death broke his father's spirit. His friend 
Hermann Hagedorn, who saw him the very day the 
word came of Quentin's death, noted in his diary 
that suddenly the boy in Roosevelt had died. From 
then on until the end of his life so Roosevelt con- 
fessed to another friend keeping up the fight was a 
constant effort. 

Roosevelt's deeply moving tribute to Quentin 
contained unforgettable lines: "Only those are fit to 
live who do not fear to die; and none are fit to die 
who have shrunk from the joy of life," he wrote, 
"Both life and death are parts of the same Great 
Adventure. Never yet was worthy adventure worthily 
carried through by the man who put his personal 
safety first." Roosevelt wrote of the duty, service and 
sacrifice expected of all the American people. "Pride 
is the portion only of those who know bitter sorrow 
or the foreboding of bitter sorrow. But all of us who 
give service, and stand ready for sacrifice, are the 
torchbearers. We run with the torches until we 
fall. . . ." 

These lines came from his heart. It was his testa- 
ment. The days of exuberance had gone, life be- 
came heavy; his own Great Adventure was closing. 

the enemy land where his strafed plane was found. 


cartoon by John McCutcheon in the Chicago Tribune. 

THE SUNKEN ROAD AT MISSAYAUX BOIS photographs differ! They could almost have been 
Haifa century before in 1862 it was the sunken taken on the same day, not fifty-six years apart, 
road at Fredericksburg (see p. 35); now in 1918 Two generations had gone by, yet men were still un- 
it is a sunken road in France. How little the two able to settle their disputes by peaceful means. 


On January 8, 1918, Wilson ap- 
peared before Congress and deliv- 
ered his Fourteen Points speech, 
committing the United States to 
take responsibility in the affairs of 
the world, and participate in solving 
the problems of Europe. Wilson's 
points reiterated his belief in open 
diplomacy, freedom of the seas, re- 
moval of trade barriers, reduction 
of armaments, impartial adjustment 
of colonial claims; his fourteenth 
point asked for a League of Nations. 
In the fall of 1918 when Ger- 
many saw that defeat was inevita- 
ble, it asked for peace negotiations 
based on these fourteen points. 


THE ROOSEVELT HOME AT OYSTER BAY. If the rooms of his childhood (see page 
48) were ornate and elaborate, so were the rooms at Sagamore Hill, where he spent his adult 
years. The walls of his comfortable study were lined with innumerable books and family 
photographs, with a large oil painting of his father facing the desk at which he worked. 

THE TROPHY ROOM, with antlers, elephant 
tusks, and other glorious mementoes of his hunting 
excursions, was added to the main house in 1904. 

THERE WERE FIREPLACES in almost every 
room of Sagamore Hill. Roosevelt loved them, and 
he liked the feel of the bearskin rugs on the floors. 




"We have no selfish ends to serve. We desire no conquest, no dominion. We 
seek no indemnities for ourselves. We are but one of the champions of the 
rights of mankind." This was President Wilson, expressing the hope that 
at the end of the most terrible war in history mankind might expect a new era 
of peace and international justice. In January of 1918 he translated this 
aspiration into concrete terms with his Fourteen Points. He called for "open 
convenants of peace, openly arrived at," for absolute freedom of the seas, for 
removal of trade barriers and reduction of armaments "to the lowest point con- 
sistent with domestic safety," for a policy of self-determination in redrawing 
national boundaries, and for an association of nations which would guarantee 
"political independence and territorial integrity to great and small nations alike." 

Wilson's idealistic program could not survive in the bitter crucible of hatred 
and greed that was Europe after four years of devastating war. Still, at the time 
he proclaimed the Fourteen Points they were accepted as Allied war aims, and 
it was on their basis that Germany surrendered. To Wilson, to the vanquished 
Germans, to subject nationalities who found self-determination a magic word, 
the Fourteen Points were regarded as a solemn compact. To the hard-bitten 
and vengeance-ridden politicians in Europe they were propaganda weapons. 

Roosevelt considered the Fourteen Points nothing more than "fourteen 
scraps of paper." He told Cabot Lodge that "the language of the four- 
teen points ... is neither straightforward nor plain, but if construed in its 
probable sense many and possibly most of these fourteen points are thoroly 
mischievous and if made the basis of a peace, such peace would represent not 
the unconditional surrender of Germany but the conditional surrender of the 
United States." He wanted to "dictate peace by the hammering guns and not 
chat about peace to the accompaniment of the clicking of typewriters." On a 
speaking tour in the fall of 1918 he told a Nebraska audience: "The only way 
to make a Hun feel friendly is to knock him out. Don't hit the man soft, because 
he will come back and hit you hard. Put this war through right, so that no 
nation will look cross-eyed at you." And while he would reluctantly accept 
the idea of a League of Nations, he would never accept it as a substitute for 
the preparation of the nation's own defense. "Uncle Sam must, in the last 
analysis, rely on himself for his safety and not on scraps of paper signed 
by others," he said, and to Rider Haggard, the well-known English author, 
he wrote in December: "I don't put much faith in the League of Nations, or 
any corresponding universal cure-all." 

He was urged to run for the governorship of New York, but he refused. "I 


And while crowds celebrated the Armistice in New 

hate not to do as you, and Henry, and my other friends request," he wrote to 
William Howard Taft, with whom the old friendly relations again prevailed, 
"but Will Hays feels as strongly as I do that it is not wise for me under exist- 
ing conditions to run for Governor of New York." 

He threw himself into the campaign of the midterm election with great 
vigor, violently assailing the President and his policies. For him Wilson was 
"at heart a pacifist, cold blooded and without a single scruple of conviction." 
In his Carnegie Hall speech a week before the election Roosevelt said: "We 
Republicans pledge ourselves to stand by the President as long as he stands 
by the American people, and to part company from him at any point where 
in our judgment he does not stand by the people. This is the people's govern- 
ment, this is the people's war, and the peace that follows shall be the people's 

But the vigor was only in his voice, not in his body. He was now sick, 
plagued by recurrent attacks of sciatic rheumatism. The next day he was back 
in bed and stayed there for weeks except for a few hours on November 5, when 
he dressed and went to the polling place to cast his vote. The result of 
the election elated him. "We did an unparalleled thing," he wrote to his friend 
Rudyard Kipling in England, "and took away the Congress from him [Wilson], 
on the issue that we stood for forcing the Germans to make an unconditional 
surrender. I took a certain sardonic amusement in the fact that whereas four 
years ago, to put it mildly, my attitude was not popular, I was now the one 
man whom they insisted upon following and whose statements were taken as 
the platform." 

He dictated a letter to his eldest son, but his pains were such that he was 
not able to sign it. His wife noted in a postscript: "Father is flat on his back 
with his gout . . . having a horrid, suffering time." For the next seven weeks 
he was confined in the Roosevelt Hospital in New York. The doctors warned 
him that he might be confined to a wheel chair for the rest of his life. "All 
right!" was his answer. "I can work that way, too." 

When newspapers speculated about his future and when the New York 
Tribune flatly predicted that he would be "the Republican candidate for Presi- 
dent in 1920," he said: "All that is near to me in the male line is in France. 
If they do not come back what is the Presidency to me?" He was now tired 
and burdened by his age. "I feel as though I were a hundred years old, and 
had never been young." 

Still, he showed a keen interest in political issues. He watched the Commu- 
nist revolution with alarm. On March 11, 1918, he wrote to his son Kermit: 
"The Bolshevists seem to have absolutely ruined Russia. Apparently the Rus- 
sians for the time being lost all national spirit. For centuries they have cruelly 
persecuted the Jews, and now the Jew leadership in Russia has been a real 
nemesis for the Russians." Two months later he said to William Allen White: 
"At the moment I am inclined to think Bolshevism a more serious menace to 
world democracy than any species of capitalism." And a day before the Armis- 
tice he told his son Theodore that "the Republicans must understand that 


their chance of becoming the successful anti-Bolshevist party depends upon 
their being sane but thoroughgoing progressives. Mere standpattism, or in 
other words, the Romanov attitude, ensures disaster." 

Early in December, Wilson sailed for France to make sure that his ideals 
should be written into the peace treaty. The whole basis of his personal leader- 
ship of the American delegation was his assumption that he would be able to 
dictate the terms of peace. 

Strangely enough, the same people who came to worship Wilson when he 
reached European soil were not ready to accept the kind of peace he wanted 
to bring them, nor were their political leaders ready to accept the magnani- 
mous settlements envisioned in the Fourteen Points. Lloyd George, the British 
Prime Minister, had recently won a general election by promising to "hang 
the Kaiser" and to make Germany pay the full cost of the Allied war effort. 
Georges Clemenceau, the French Premier, desired to grind Germany forever 
into the dust. He said: "Mr. Wilson bores me with his Fourteen Points. Why, 
God Almighty has only ten!" And Orlando, the Prime Minister of Italy, was 
interested mainly in territorial loot. 

It was cynicism, bitterness, and a desire for "peace with a vengeance" 
which prevailed when the peace conference began in January. By then Roose- 
velt was back at Sagamore Hill, exhausted and in pain, spending the better 
part of each day in bed. Mrs. Roosevelt wrote to her eldest son that at dusk 
"he watched the dancing flames and spoke of the happiness of being home. . . . 
I think he had made up his mind that he would have to suffer for some time 
to come and with his high courage had adjusted himself to bear it." Once when 
she was leaving the room he looked up and said to her: "I wonder if you will 
ever know how I love Sagamore Hill." 

On January 6, 1919 while President Wilson was traveling toward Versailles 
Theodore Roosevelt died. Death came to him quietly. Until the last he 
worked, dictated letters, reviewed an ornithological book, wrote editorials for 
the Kansas City Star. To his bedridden sister, Mrs. Cowles, he sent the message: 
"I feel like a faker because my troubles are not to be mentioned in the same 
breath with yours." To editor Ogden Reid of the New York Tribune he 
protested against an editorial: "For Heaven's sake never allude to Wilson as 
an idealist or militaire or altruist. He is a doctrinaire when he can be so with 
safety to his personal ambition and he is always utterly and coldly selfish. He 
hasn't a touch of idealism in him." 

An hour before midnight on January 5, after laying aside the proofs of an 
editorial he had corrected, he said to his valet: "James, please put out 
the light." They were his last words. Shortly after four the next morning he 
died in his sleep. "Death," said Vice- President Marshall, "had to take him 
sleeping. For if Roosevelt had been awake, there would have been a fight." 

His son Archibald cabled to his brothers, who were serving with the Army 
in France: 




JULY 20, 1917: The blindfolded President draws a 
draft number meaning military service for 4557 
Americans, one man from each registration district. 

OCTOBER 12, 1918: The President marches in 
New York's Liberty Loan parade. On Wilson's 
right are Dr. Grayson and his secretary, Tumulty. 

DECEMBER 25, 1918: Wilson, accompanied by 
General Pershing, visited the American Expedi- 
tionary Force and received a rousing welcome. 

DECEMBER 26, 1918: Wilson recrossed th< 
Channel to pay a visit to England. At London' 
Charing Cross station he was met by King George V 


Woodrow Wilson wanted to make certain that the ideals embodied in his Fourteen Points 
would become part of the peace treaty. In December 1918 he sailed to France to be pres- 
ent at Versailles, where the peace negotiations were to begin. 

Roosevelt was angry, his hatred against Wilson without bounds. Only a few weeks earlier 
the country had elected a Republican Congress. To Roosevelt this meant a clear repudia- 
tion of the President's policies. Immobilized in a New York hospital, where he was being 
treated for his rheumatic condition, he issued a statement. "Mr. Wilson," said Roosevelt, 


DECEMBER 4, 1918: Wilson, with the Ameri- 
can delegates to the Peace Conference in Paris, 
crosses the ocean on the S. S. George Washington. 

DECEMBER 13, 1918: Arriving at Brest, where 
President Poincare" met him. The French President 
accompanied Wilson on the ensuing journey to Paris. 

DECEMBER 26, 1918: A tremendous crowd filled 
the square before London's Buckingham Palace 
and cheered lustily for the American President. 

DECEMBER 31, 1918: King George V, Queen 
Mary, and their daughter, pose with the Wilsons 
before they leave England to return to France. 

"has no authority whatever to speak for the American people at this time. His leadership 
has just been emphatically repudiated by them. Mr. Wilson and his Fourteen Points and 
his four supplementary points and all his utterances every which way have cfcased to 
have any shadow of right to be accepted as expressive of the will of the American people." 
Still, when Wilson reached the shores of Europe, he was greeted by the long-suffering 
people as no American had been greeted before him. He was the bearer of glad tidings of 
a better life. "The mass of European peasantry," said an observer, "looked forward to his 
arrival as men looked in medieval times to the second coming of Christ." 


clear, his thinking powers unimpaired. He wrote 
articles, he wrote letters, he kept in touch with his 
friends. He was occupied with political matters; he 
fought Wilson till the last. 

Three days before his death he wrote to Carroll E. 
Armstrong in Clinton, Iowa, "that unlike Mr. 
Wilson I have never erred in intellectual honesty 
and moral straightforwardness" and "that as regards 
Mr. Wilson I never erred but once and that was on 
the occasion in question, when for the first sixty days 
after the outbreak of the World War I, I heartily 
supported him." Republicans once more began to 
look upon him as their next presidential candidate. 

If Roosevelt had lived, he would most probably 
have been nominated in 1920 and would then cer- 
tainly have been elected. How different the course 
of history would have run with him as President! 

HIS LAST MESSAGE to Richard Hurd was read at 
an all-Amcrican benefit concert a day before his death. 

table: a memo to see Will Hays, the Chairman of 
the Republican National Committee, and tell him 
that "he must go to Washington for 10 days; see 
Senate & House; prevent split on domestic policies." 



The bedroom at Oyster Bay where, in the early hours of January 6, 1919, he breathed his 
last. The night before, the local doctor was called to treat his inflamed joints. Roosevelt told 
him: "I feel as though my heart was going to stop beating." 

Ever since the early part of 1918 he had been ill. An abscess on his thigh and abscesses 
in his ears caused him severe pains, and he had to go to the hospital. "My old Brazilian 
trouble, both the fever and abscesses recurred and I had to go under the knife/' he wrote 
to his son Kermit, then with the American Army in France. The operation left his balance 
impaired, he had to learn to walk anew, and he lost the hearing in his left ear. He suffered, 
but he took the pains without complaint. "The Doctors think I will be all right in the end," 
he said. "I hope so; but I am ahead of the game anyhow. Nobody ever packed more varie- 
ties of fun and interest in the sixty years." 

On October 27, 1918, he was sixty years old. Two weeks later, the day of the signing of 
the Armistice, once more he had to return to the hospital. This time it was inflammatory 
rheumatism. For Christmas he returned home. On January 5 he wrote his regular editorial 
for the Kansas City Star. At eleven he asked his valet, "Please put out the light." They 
were his last words. Soon after four the following morning he died in his sleep. The immedi- 
ate cause of death was "malignant endocarditis and embolism in the coronary arteries." 




"The long, long trail," 
Jay N. ("Ding") Dar- 
ling's moving tribute to 
Roosevelt, printed in the 
Des Moines Register on 
the day after his death. 




A bust by James Earle 
Fraser, completed from 
a mask which the sculp- 
tor took the day follow- 
ing Roosevelt's death. 



He had written to Roosevelt 
when he heard of his sickness, 
and friendly letters were ex- 
changed. One day in 1918 Taft 
entered Chicago's Blackstone 
Hotel and, seeing Roosevelt in 
the dining room, he opened his 
arms. "Theodore, I am glad to 
see you." Roosevelt asked Taft to 
dine with him, and within min- 
utes antagonism had faded away. 

THE END OF THE ROAD. The coffin was lowered into the earth and covered; the min- 
ister had said his prayers; the family and friends had gone. In the cold winter air a solitary 
soldier stayed behind and stood guard over the remains of Theodore Roosevelt. . 

Once, Roosevelt wrote to the poet Robinson: "There is not one among us, in whom a 
devil does not dwell; at some time, on some point, that devil masters each of us; he who 
has never failed has not been tempted; but the man who does in the end conquer, who does 
painfully retrace the steps of his slipping, why he shows that he has been tried in the fire 
and not found wanting. It is not having been in the Dark House, but having left it, that 
counts. . . ." The Dark House was behind him now, as was life. 



In 1919 about five and a half million people lived 
in New York, four and three quarter millions more 
than in 1858 (see p. 20), the year Theodore Roose- 
velt was born. In the sixty years that spanned his 
life, the city had made phenomenal progress; it was 
now the largest in the world larger even than 

London. Thirty-eight per cent of the population was 
foreign-born, coming from Russia, Italy, Germany, 
Ireland, Austria, England, and Hungary, in that 
order. Only two per cent of the city's inhabitants were 
Negroes. In the description of the English journalist 
W. L. George: "There is so much in the streets; 



everything hurries motor cars, street cars, rail- 
way cars. In the restaurants endless vistas of napery 
and crystal extend away. One goes up Broadway at 
night to see the crowded colored signs of the movie 
shows and the theatres twinkle and eddy, inviting, 
clamorous, Babylonian! . . . New York is all the 

cities. It is the giant city grouped about its colossal 
forest of parallelepipeds of concrete and steel." 
No less than 33,000 factories produced three bil- 
lion dollars' worth of goods yearly; there were 1,500 
hotels and just as many churches, over a hundred 
hospitals, and 850 theaters, movies, and music halls. 


PARK AVENUE, north from 84th Street. Six dec- 
ades before when Theodore Roosevelt was born 
this section was not yet developed; it was filled 
with shanties inhabited by the poorest of the poor. 
By 1919, however the year of Roosevelt's death- 
it had become one of the most fashionable residen- 
tial areas of the city. As New York expanded, the 
wealthy people moved uptown; it added to social pres- 
tige to have a luxurious apartment on Park Avenue. 

MADISON SQUARE, with the world's largest struc- 
ture at the time of Theodore Roosevelt's death the 
Metropolitan Life Insurance Building. The 52-story 
tower, reminiscent of the Campanile in Venice, was 
700 feet high. The building's assessed value of 
$15,550,000 was the greatest in the city. 

The tower on the left, piercing dark into the 
sky, ornamented Madison Square Garden. Next to it 
is the Appellate Court and Dr. Parkhurst's church. 

the 33rd Street platform of the elevated railway, 
had some of the heaviest traffic in the busy city. 


middle of the street was New York's first traffic 
tower, with a policeman directing the flow of cars. 


PARK ROW, the home of the city's great news- 
papers the World, the Sun, the Tribune, the Times. 
Running from Ann Street northeast to Chatham 
Square, it skirted City Hall Park on the east. The dome 
on the left was over the main post office; west of it 
was Printing House Square, with the statue of Benja- 
min Franklin. "This is Brobdingnag, the land of 
giants," exclaimed a foreign visitor in awe. "Gigantic 
chaos, that is the first feeling I had in New York." 

GREENWICH AVENUE from 8th Street station in 
winter dress, a photograph taken by Arthur D. Chap- 
man, whose pictures of New York during the teens 
belong to the best records of the city's life. This 
street is like one in Berlin, Budapest, or Vienna, 
with leisurely traffic and people not in a hurry. 
So idyllic, it is hard to believe that this is New 
York, "the wonderful, cruel, enchanting, bewilder- 
ing, fatal, great city" a description by O. Henry. 


The huge car barn was situated where today stands 
the Roxy Theater, with the Hotel Taft to the left. 


On the left is the Collegiate Church of St. Nicholas 
and throngs of strolling worshipers on Easter Sunday. 


THE LEADER OF THE FREE WORLD. President Woodrow Wilson at Versailles, ac- 
knowledging the cheers of the crowds the very week that Theodore Roosevelt died in America. 

met in Paris. On January 18, 1919, delegates of twenty-seven nations filed into the Clock 
Room of the French Foreign Office for the opening session. Electing Georges Clcmenceau, 
the Prime Minister of France, as their president, the making of a new world was begun. 




The Works of Theodore Roosevelt (National Edition, 
ed. Hermann Hagedorn, New York, 1926), in 20 
volumes, includes his literary output: his books, and 
some of his addresses and articles. 

Presidential Addresses (Review of Reviews Co., 
1910), in 8 volumes, contains his important political 

His magazine articles are in The Outlook, the Metro- 
politan Magazine, and other publications. 

His An Autobiography (1926) is an attempt to re- 
count the events of his life. 

The Letters of Theodore Roosevelt, in 8 volumes, a 
superbly edited work (ed. Eking E. Morrison, John 
M. Blum, and John J. Buckley, Cambridge, 1951), 
contains most of his important letters. His corre- 
spondence of some 100,000 pieces is in the Theodore 
Roosevelt Collection of the Library of Congress. It 
was microfilmed for the Theodore Roosevelt Collec- 
tion of the Harvard College Library. 

Other letter collections which preceded the defini- 
tive edition are: Letters from Theodore Roosevelt to Anna 
Roosevelt Cowles (1924), Theodore Roosevelt's Letters to 
His Children (1919), Letters to Kermit from Theodore 
Roosevelt (1946), and Selections from the Correspondence of 
Theodore Roosevelt and Henry Cabot Lodge (2 vols., 1925). 


His daughter, Alice Longworth, wrote Crowded 
Hours (1933). His son Kermit published an excellent 
account of the South American expedition, The 
Happy Hunting Grounds (1920). His sister Corinne 
Robinson penned My Brother Theodore Roosevelt (New 
York, 1921). His daughter-in-law, Eleanor Roose- 
velt, wrote Day Before Yesterday (New York, 1959), a 
biography of Theodore, Jr., with many amusing 
sidelights on her father-in-law. 


The official biography, Theodore Roosevelt and His 
Time, by Joseph J. Bishop (2 vols. New York, 1920), 
is what one expects of it. Lord Charnwood's Theodore 
Roosevelt (1923) leaves much to be desired. Hermann 
Hagedorn's Roosevelt in the Bad Lands (Boston, 1921) 
is the best work on that period of Roosevelt's life. 
Theodore Roosevelt, A Biography, by Henry F. Pringle 
(1931), is entertaining, but not always fair. v 

During the last few years a number of books have 
come out which have great merit. 

Carleton Putnam's projected four- volume work 
will bewhen completed without question the out- 
standing Roosevelt biography. So far only one vol- 
ume, The Formative Tears 1858-1886 (New York, 
1958), has appeared. 

Edward Wagenknecht's The Seven Worlds of Theo- 
dore Roosevelt (1958) is eminently readable. 

George E. Mo wry 's The Era of Theodore Roosevelt 
1900-1912 (New York, 1958) is a scholarly account 
in the best tradition of Roosevelt's political life. Pro- 
fessor Mowry's previous book, Theodore Roosevelt and 
the Progressive Movement (Wisconsin, 1946), is a superb 
thesis on the subject. 

Howard K. Beale's Theodore Roosevelt and the Rise 
of America to World Power (1956) is excellent. 

Hermann Hagedorn's The Roosevelt Family of Saga- 
more Hill (New York, 1954) draws a warm and vivid 
picture of the Roosevelts' home life. 

John Morton Blum's slim volume, The Republican 
Roosevelt (Cambridge, 1954), is a brilliant study. The 
same author's essays in The Letters of Theodore Roose- 
velt are the best of their kind. 


Everyone who was near Roosevelt wrote about him. 
Reminiscences of politicians and writers are legion. 

Mark Sullivan pictured him amusingly in chap- 
ters of his five-volume social history, Our Times (1926- 
1935). Archibald W. Butt, in Tafl and Roosevelt: The 
Intimate Letters of Archie Butt, Military Aide (1930), 
reveals the relation of the two Presidents. 

Some of the other notable memoirs: Richard 
Harding Davis, Notes of a War Correspondent (1910); 
Chauncey M. Depew, My Memories of Eighty Tears 
(1922); Joseph B. Foraker, Notes of a Busy Life 
(1916); John Hay, Letters and Diaries (1908); Herman 
Henry Kohlsaat, From McKinley to Harding (1923); 
Robert M. La Follette, Autobiography (1911); Thomas 
C. Platt, The Autobiography of Thomas Collier Platt 
(1910); George Haven Putnam, Memories of a Pub- 
lisher (1915); Henry L. Stoddard, As I Knew Them 
(1927); Oscar Straus, Under Four Administrations 
(1922); Mrs. William Howard Taft, Recollections of 
Full Tears (1914); William Allen White, Marks in a 
Pageant (1928); Owen Wister, The Story of a Friendship 




Abbott, Lawrence P., 521 
Adams, Henry, 243, 369, 457 
Aguinaldo, Emilio, 323, 355 f., 

387 f., 390, 392 
Alaska, 389, 394, 399 
Aldrich, Nelson W, 247, 472 f., 480, 


Algeciras Conference, 447, 593 
Amador, Manuel, 404 f, 471 
Anthony, Susan B., 141 
Arthur, Chester A., 178, 409 
Astor family, 175, 425, 430 

Baer, George F., 371, 375, 383 
Baker, Newton D., 595, 610 
Baker, Ray Stannard, 476 
Ballinger, Richard A., 523, 542 
Barnes, William, 600 f. 
Beecher, Henry Ward, 202 
Belknap, William, 127, 131 
Bell, Alexander Graham, 143 

Bell, John, 30 f. 

Bergh, Henry, 51 

Beveridge, Albert J., 356, 523, 548, 
553, 545 

Big Stick policy, 339, 396, 397 f. 

Bigelow, W. Sturgis, 295 

Blaine, James G., 169, 178 f., 200 f., 
243, 251 

Booth, John Wilkes, 29, 42 

Boxer uprising, 389 

Brady, Mathew, 72 

Breckinridge, John C., 31 

Bristow, Joseph, 545 

Brownsville affair (1906), 495 

Bryan, William Jennings, 255, 271, 
335, 346, 349, 353, 410, 492 f., 

Bryn Mawr, 575, 580 

Buchanan, James, 13 

Bulloch, Anna, 26, 28 

Bulloch, Irvine Stephens, 26 f., 77, 

Bulloch, James Dunwody, 26 f., 77, 
107, 115 

Bulloch, Martha Stewart, 26 

Bunau-Varilla, Philippe, 403 ff. 

Burnaide, Gen. Ambrose, 29, 35 

Bush, Charles Green, 278 f., 340, 
352, 402 

Butt, Archie, 514, 543 

Cady, Elizabeth, 141 

Canada, boundary dispute, 394, 

Cannon, Joseph ("Uncle Joe"), 542, 
545, 560 

Carnegie, Andrew, 425, 457, 514, 
526, 544 

Carpetbaggers, 64 f., 69 f. 

Castle Garden: in 1880, 172; immi- 
gration station, 16, 56; social cen- 
ter, 16, 56 

Cervera, Admiral, 296, 307 

Chandler, Zachariah, 139 f. 

Chapman, Arthur D., 633 

Cherries, George K., 586, 587 

Chicago, Haymarket Hot, 232 f. 

Churchill, Winston S., 325 

Civil Rights Bill, 63 

Civil War, 13 f., 28 f., 33 ff., 41 f.; 

aftermath of, 61 ff. 
Clapp, Moses ., 545 
Clemenceau, Georges, 621, 634 
Cleveland, Grover, 169, 183 f., 198, 

201 f., 255 ff., 245, 256 ff., 264, 

Coal strike (1902), 370, 371, 375, 

383 ff. 
Colombia, and Panama Canal, 

402 ff 

Conkling, Roscoe, 169, 178 
Conservation, 473, 477 
Cookc,Jay & Co., 125 
Cortelyou, George B.,410,411, 412, 

418, 482 

Cory, J. Campbell, cartoon, 548 
Cowles, Anna. See Roosevelt, Anna 
Coxey's "Army," 258, 262 f. 
Crane, Murray, 380 
Crank, John, shoots T.R., 572 
Credit Mobilier, 104 f., 108 
Cromwell, William N., 403 
Cummins, Albert, 545 
Cunningham, cartoon, 516 
Curtis, George W, 19, 202 
Cutler, Arthur W, 133, 136, 192 
Czolgosz, Leon, 356 f, 361 

Dalrymple, Louis, his cartoons, 

Dana, Charles Anderson, 251 

Darling, Jay N. ("Ding"), cartoon, 

Davenport, Homer, his cartoons, 

Davis, Henry G., 410, 417 

Davis, Jefferson, 31 

Davis, Richard Harding, 243, 296, 

Debs, Eugene V., 264, 501, 573 

DeLesscps, Ferdinand, 403, 406, 

De Ldme, Enrique, 282 

Democratic party, 31, 61, 65, 105, 
139 f., 146 ff, 169, 201 f., 225 ff, 
245, 252 f., 280, 335, 351, 410 f., 
492 f., 501, 503, 568, 576 f., 594 

De Mores, Marquis, 203, 222 f. 

Depew, Chauncey M., 236, 333, 
3f6, 410, 495, 555 

Dcwey, Adm. George, 283, 290, 
295, 300 f, 323, 338, 387, 398, 494 

Dickens, Charles, 497 

Dolliver, Jonathan, 523, 545 

Donahey, James, his cartoons, 535, 

Douglas, Stephen A., 13 f., 31 

Dow, Wilmot, 204, 220 f. 

Dunne, Finley Peter, 595; "Mr. 
Dooley" on constitutional rights, 
389; on 1912 Republican con- 
vention, 567; on T.R., 297, 335, 

Edison, Thomas Alva, 170 f., 423 f. 
Edward VII, 447; funeral of, 513 f., 


Eisenhower, Dwight D., 325 
Eliot, Charles, 88 f. 
Elkins Act (1903), 409, 472 
Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 87, 120 
Employers' Liability Act (1906), 

Evans, Adm. Robley D., 490 

Fairbanks, Charles W., 417 

Farming: growth after Civil War, 
86, 99; in 1870s, 125, 126, 131; 
unrest in 1880s, 226; formation 
of the Grange, 126, 131, 226; 
Farmers' Alliances (1880), 226, 
255; Interstate Commerce Act, 
226; hardship in 1890s, 258, 544; 
irrigation, 477 

Ferris, Joe, 203, 208, 223 

Ferris, Sylvanus, 203, 206, 208, 
211 ff. 

Fiala, Anthony, 586 

Fillmore, Millard, 409 

Financial crises: in 1869, 106; in 
1873-78, 125, 128; in 1892-96, 
257 f.; in 1907, 473, 482 f 

Fish, Hamilton, 107, 147 

Fish, Mrs. Stuyvesant, 425, 460 

Fisk, "Jim," 103, 106 

Florhi, cartoon, 474 

Foraker, Joseph B., 416, 417, 472, 
492, 495 

Ford, Henry, 430 

Ford's Theatre, 42 

France: Moroccan crisis (J905), 
447; Panama CanaJ attempt, 
465; arbitration treaty proposed, 
558; World War I, 597; Versail- 
les treaty, 621 

Franz, Ferdinand, 593, 597 

Frascr, James Earle, 626 

Frick, Henry C., 41 1, 418, 425, 482 

Frohman, Charles, 603 
Funston, Maj. Gen. Frederick, cap- 
tures Aguinaldo, 356, 388 

Garfield, James A., 176, 178, 180, 
200, 560, 585 

Garland, Hamlin, 245 

Gary, Elbert H., 482 

George V, 622 f. 

George, Henry, 236, 238 f. 

George, W. L., 630 

Germany: World War I, 593 ff; 
sinking of Lusitama, 593, 602 f.; 
U.S. declares war, 594, 608; asks 
for peace negotiations, 615 

Gibson, Charles Dana, 426 

Gillam, his cartoons, 200, 255, 412 

Glackens, Louis M., cartoon, 488 

Glavis, Louis, 523 

Godkin, E. L., 200, 227, 237, 334 

Goethals, Col. George W, 467 

Gold: discoveries in West, 87; in 
Alaska, 389, 394; market cor- 
nered (1869), 103, 106, 107; vs. 
silver debates, 257-58; reserve 
under Cleveland (1893), 261 

Gompers, Samuel, 195, 225 

Gorgas, Gen. William C., 465 f., 

Gorky, Maxim, 497 

Gould, George J., 418 

Gould, Jay, 103, 106, 168, 182, 184 

Grant, Ulysses S.: Civil War gen- 
eral, 29, 36, 38 f., 41, 68; presi- 
dential campaign (1868), 65; 
family, 76 illus.; first term, 103- 
13; re-elected (1872), 105, 114; 
second term, 125-31, 147. Cor- 
ruption under: gold conspiracy 
(1869), 103, 106, 107; Alabama 
claims (1871), 107; CrecUt Mobi- 
lier, 104, 105, 108; Tweed Ring, 

104, 109; in Congress, 103, 104; 
Whisky Ring, 127, 131; Sanborn 
contracts, 127, 131; Belknap 
bribe, 127, 131; "Salary Grab" 
Act, 127; railroads, 126. Candi- 
date (1880), 178, 179; funeral 
(1885), 205 

Great Britain: transatlantic cable 
(1858), 13; East India Company, 
13; T.R. visits, 77, 79; Alabama 
claims, 107; Canada- Alaska 
boundary dispute, 394, 399; and 
Venezuela, 397, 400; Clayton- 
Bulwer Treaty, 403; Hay- 
Pauncefote Treaty, 403; Moroc- 
co, 447, 450-51; arbitration 
treaty, 558 

Greeley, Horace, 17, 105, 1 1 1, 1 13 f. 

Guam, 297 

Hagedorn, Hermann, 614 
Hale, Eugene, 485, 544 
Hale, William Bayard, 581 
Hamilton, Dr. Allen McLane, 565 
Hanna, Mark: and T.R, (1896), 
271; Spanish- American War, 
283; opposes TR. for Vice Presi- 
dent, 335, 343, 344, 345; nomi- 
nates McKinley, 345; T.R. offers 
to campaign, 346; helps avert 
coal strike, 351; advises T.R. as 
President, 369, 373; 1904 cam- 
paign, 410, 416, 417; death, 410 

Harriman, Edward H M 374, 411, 
418, 437, 482, 495 

Harrison, Benjamin, election of, 
227, 234, 237; as President, 243 ff., 
251 ft 

Harte, Bret, 87 

Harvard College, 88, 89, 151, 154, 

Harvey, Charles, 52 

Hawaii, annexation of, 286, 323, 
331, 389 

Hay, John, 243, 373, 399, 41 1; on 
Spanish- American War, 297, 
332; Open Door policy, 389; 
Panama Canal, 404, 405; Per- 
dicaris kidnaping, 410; gives T.R. 
a ring, 420,471 

Hayes, Rutherford B., 139, 140, 
146ff., 176, 200 

Haymarket Riot, 232 f. 

Hays, Will, 624 

Hearst, William Randolph, 289, 

Helena, Mont., 96 

Heller, Edmund, 585 

Hepburn bill (1906), 472, 478 f. 

Hewitt, Abram S., 236, 238 

Heyburn, Weldon, 544 illus. 

Hill, James J., 167, 355, 374, 457, 

Hitler, Adolf, 249 

Hobson, Richmond Pearson, 307, 

Holmes, Oliver Wendell, 87, 157, 

Homestead Act (1862), 102 

Hooker, Gen. Joseph, 29, 35 

House, Col. E. M., 576 

Hubbard, Elbert, 603 

Hughes, Charles Evans, 500, 594, 
606 f. 

Hyde, James Hazen, 425, 436 

Immigration in U.S.: in 1865-75, 
96, 97; in 1880s, 167-68; in 
1890s, 425; in 1905, 444; New 
York City as center of, 56, 172 

Interstate commerce, 227, 472, 
478, f., 491 

Ireland (Archbishop), 494 

Iron Ore, weekly newspaper, 588 

James, Henry, 244 f. 

Japan: Russo-Japanese War, 445- 
49, 453-55; Taft visits, 446, 452; 
Imperial family, 452; American 
troubles with (1905-7), 485-89; 
exclusion of Japanese from schools 
(1906), 485, 489; compromise, 
486, 489; U.S. fleet visits, 487, 

Johns Hopkins University, 575, 
579 f. 

Johnson, Andrew, 409; becomes 
President, 6 1 ; impeachment, 64, 
72, 73; Reconstruction policy, 62, 
63, 66, 67; Tenure of Office Act, 
72 f. 

Johnson, Herbert, cartoon, 546 

Jusserand, Jules, 445, 524 

Kansas City Star, 621, 625 

Kean, John, 544 

Kemble, E. W., his cartoons, 484, 

494, 539, 553, 554, 560, 570, 571 
Keppler, Joseph, his cartoons, 108, 

128, 178, 247,418, 420 
Kipling, Rudyard, 243, 245, 260, 

355, 620 
Kirby, Roll in, his cartoons, 570, 

601 f., 606 

Knabenshuc, Roy, 433 
Knickerbocker Trust Co., failure 

(1907), 482 
Knox College, 346 
Komura, Jutaro, 454 
KuKluxKlan, 65, 71 

Labor: Coxey's "Army," 258, 262- 
63; demands in 1870s, 128; eight- 
hour day, 424; Greenback-Labor 
movement (1878), 127 

Labor, strikes: coal (1902), 370, 
371, 375, 383-86; first nation- 
wide (1887), 126; Homestead, 
254; Pullman, 264; under Cleve- 
land, 226, 231, 232, 233 

Labor organizations: A.F. of L., 
226; Brotherhood of Locomotive 
Engineers, 126; Knights of Labor, 
126, 225i 226, 231, 255; "Molly 
Maguires," 126; Patrons of Hus- 
bandry, 126 

La Foilette, Robert, 545, 548, 551, 
555, 561 

Lambert, Dr. Alexander, 450, 466, 

Lang, Gregor, 203, 208 

Langley, Samuel P., 423 

Lawson, Thomas, 476 

League of Nations, 619 

Lee, Arthur Hamilton, 542, 571, 

Lee, Gen. Robert E., 29, 34, 36, 38, 

Leslie, Mrs. Frank, 272 

Lincoln, Abraham: debates with 
Douglas, 13 f.; presidential can- 

didate (1860), 30 f.; first inaugu- 
ral, 32; Civil War, 29, 34 ff., 42; 
second inaugural, 40 f.; death, 
29, 42; funeral, 43, 502, 505, 
544, 601 

Lloyd George, David, 621 
Lodge, Henry Cabot, 205, 209, 224, 
235, 238, 243, 270, 277, 296, 297, 
336, 349, 357, 384, 454, 486, 51 1, 
534, 537, 544 illus.; 1880 letter, 
169; helps T.R. get McKinley 
appointment, 284; advises T.R. 
to take Vice Presidency, 335, 
341, 343; predicts T.RJs Presi- 
dency, 355; coal strike, 371; Ca- 
nadian boundary jurist, 399; 
Republican platform (1904), 
410; chairman 1908 convention, 

Locb, William, 492, 500, 501 
Long, John D., 281, 284, 290 ff., 


Long, W J., 497 
Longfellow, Henry W, 496 
Longworth, Alice. See Roosevelt, 


Longworth, Nicholas, 461 f. 
Lowell, James Russell, 497 
Lowry, cartoon, 504 
Lusitama sunk, 593, 602, 603 

Macauley, Charles R., his cartoons, 
396, 539, 549, 566, 569 

Mahan, Alfred Thayer, 286 

Maine, the, explosion of, 282 f., 288 

Manhattan Elevated Railway, 182, 

Marshall, John, 621 

Matthews, Brander, 498 

McAdoo, William Gibbs, 581 

McClellan, Gen. George B., 29, 34 f. 

McCutcheon, John, cartoon, 614 

McKinley, William: as Congress- 
man on tariff reform (1887), 227; 
as chairman of Ways and Means 
Committee, 252; presidential 
candidate in 1896, 271, 280; in 
1900, 335, 344, 345, 349, 350, 
352, 353; as President: appoints 
T.R. Asst. Sec. of Navy, 281, 284; 
Spanish -American War, 281, 282, 
283, 297, 302, 319, 323, 326, 332; 
inauguration (1901), 354; and the 
Philippines, 355, 356; assassina- 
tion, 356, 357, 360, 361; death, 
357, 362, 364, 373 

Meade, Gen. George, 29, 35, 38 

Meat-packing industry: growth 
after Civil War, 85; meat-inspec- 
tion bill, 473, 476; suits against, 

Merrifield, William, 203, 208, 2 1 1 f., 

Miles, Gen. Nelson A., 292, 311; 
quarrels with T.R., 494 

Milwaukee, T.R. shot at (1912), 

Minot, Henry, 160 

Mitchell, John, 37 1,383 

Moore & Schley, 482 f. 

Morgan, J. Pierpont: helps avert 
coal strike, 351; and U.S. Steel, 
355; aids in settling coal strike, 
371, 383, 384, 385; 1904 cam- 



paign, 418, 457; Panic of 1907, 

482, 544 
Morgan, Matt, hit cartoons, 1 10, 

112, 130 

Morlcy, John, 457 
Morocco: Algeciras Conference, 

447; Kaiser Wil helm's visit, 450- 

5 1 ; Roosevelt's intervention, 445- 


Muckrakers, 476 
Mugwumps, 169, 201, 225 
Mulligan letters, 200 

Nast, Thomas, 88, 105; his car- 
toons, 60, 66, 67, 107, 109, 113, 
114, 124, 128, 131, 149, 179, 198, 

"New Freedom," 577, 584 

New Nationalism, 542, 551, 584 

New York City, general descriptions: 
in 1858, 13, 15 f., 20 f; at close of 
Civil War, 45 f., 50 f.; in 1880, 
167, 172 f.; in 1919, 630 f. Places 
and events: Brooklyn Bridge, 167; 
celebrations, Armistice, 618, 
T.R.'s return from Europe, 538 f.; 
Chatham Street, 23; City Hall, 
13, 16, 22, 43; Coney Island, 
438 f., Custom House, 23; ele- 
vated railroad, 52, 172; Fifth 
Avenue (1858), 15, 21; Five 
Points, 23; Greenwich Avenue, 
633; Harbor, 22; James Street, 
22; Liberty Loan parade, 622; 
Madison Square, 275, 437, 632; 
Metropolitan Museum of Art, 
18, 172; Metropolitan Opera 
House, 167; Museum of Natural 
History, 18, 587; Park Avenue, 
632; Park Row, 633; population 
in 1858, 15, in 1880, 167, in 1919, 
630; Produce Exchange, 145; 
Roxy Theater, 633; saloons, 56, 
270 f., 277 f.; schools (1870), 84; 
slums, 15 f., 22 f., 45, 54 f.; Mu- 
nicipal Health Board, 140, 167 f. , 
173, 190, 195, 273, 425; social 
life, 175, 187, 272, 425, 440; 
Staten Island, 16; Stock Ex- 
change, 106; Telephone Ex- 
change, 173; theater (1858), 17, 
after Civil War, 50, 58 f., in 1900s, 
424; Union Square, 51 

New York Journal, Cuban stories, 

New York Post, denounces T.R. as 
radical, 543 

New York Sun, 185; on T.R. as 
President, 369; endorses T.R. in 
1904, 411; accuses T.R. of being 
revolutionist, 568 

New York Times, 139; for T.R. as 
Mayor, 236; on Sherman Silver 
Purchase Act, 261; poll on T.R. 
(1907), 491; and T.R. on direct 
primary, 547; on difference be- 
tween T.R. and Taft, 562; T.R.'s 
sanity questioned, 565; on 1912 
campaign, 567 

New York TnkwM, 17, 53, 63, 105; 
against T.R.'s saloon closing, 270; 
predicts T.R. as President (1920), 

New York World, on T.R. as Police 
Commissioner, 269, 271 ; Cuban 

stories, 281, 289; on 1904 cam- 
paign, 418; on T.R.'s death, 626 

Newett, George S., sued by T.R. for 
libel, 585 f., 588 f. 

Nicaragua, 403 f. 

Nickelodeons, 423 

Norris, George W, 545 

Northern Securities Co., 370, 374, 

Open Door policy, 389 
Opper, Joseph, cartoon, 234 
Osborn, Henry Fairfield, 532 
Outlook, The, 493, 543, 558, 561, 593, 

Panama Canal, 402 ff., 465 ff.; 
Clayton-Bulwcr Treaty, 403; 
DeLesseps, 403, 465; Hay- 
Pauncefote Treaty, 403; Hay- 
Herran Treaty, 404; Bunau- 
Varilla, 403 ff.; Spooner Act, 404, 
406; Colombian revolt, 404 f.; 
Panama Republic, 404 f.; Gule- 
bra Cut, 407, 467 f.; T.R. visits, 
464, 466, 468 ff.; yellow fever and 
Gorgas, 465 f., 469; T. P. Shonts, 

Parker, Alton B., 410-11, 417 

Partridge, Bernard, cartoon, 502 

Payn, Lou, 335, 339 

Paync-Aldrich bill, 542, 544 

People's party. See Populists 

Perdicaris, Ian, 4 10 

Pershing, Gen. John, 61 3, 622 

Philadelphia: Centennial Fair 
(1876), 139, 142, 143; party for 
Gen. Grant, 176 

Philippine Islands: Spanish -Ameri- 
can War, 295, 297, 300 f., 323, 
331 f.; insurgents, 323; guerrilla 
war, 355, 387 f., 390 ff.; recon- 
struction, 388 

Pigskin Library, 5 19 

Pinchot, Gifford, 473, 523, 541, 
542, 560 

Pittsficld, Mass., accident, 371, 380 

Platt, Thomas Collier, 410; New 
York political boss, 284, 337; pro- 
poses T.R. for governor, 333; at- 
tempts to boss T.R., 334 f., 339 f.; 
wants T.R. for Vice President, 
335, 340, 342 ff., 354 

Pony Express, 98-99 

Pope, Gen. John, 34 

Populists (People's party), 544; 
formed (1890s), 255; presidential 
campaign (1892), 256; William 
J. Bryan candidate (1896), 271 

Porter, Edwin S., 423 

Porter, Gen. Horace, 38 

Porter, Phil, cartoon, 558 

Portsmouth, N.H., peace treaty, 
453, 455 

Price, Dr. Morton, 565 

Princeton University, 575, 579 f. 

Progressives, 513, 523, 541-45, 547- 
49, 551, 552, 555, 557, 561, 568- 

Puck, 228, 234, 239, 247, 251, 260, 
261, 331, 418, 420 f., 478 ff., 500 

Puerto Rico: Spanish- American 
War, 297, 322; ceded to U.S., 
331 f., 355; government, 388 

Pughe, J. S., his cartoons, 478, 480, 


Pullman strike (1894), 264 
Pure Food Bill, 473 
Putnam, Carleton, 136 

Quay, Matthew, 227, 251, 253, 344 
Quigg, Lemuel Ely, 333 

Railroads, 86, 90 f., 96, 126, 144, 
167, 200, 203, 227, 247, 257, 264, 
370, 374, 472, 478 

Rawlins, Gen. John A., 38 

Reconstruction, 61 ff.; carpetbag- 
gers, 64, 69 f.; scalawags, 64, 69; 
President Johnson and, 62 ff., 67, 
72 f.; Radical Republicans, 61 ff.; 
Acts of 1867, 68; Negro suffrage, 
65, 68 f.; ends, 148 

Red path, James, 88 

Reed, Thomas B., 253, 47 1 

Reid, Ogden, 621 

Reid, Whitelaw, 297 

Reinhart, C. S., cartoon, 148 

Remington, Frederic, 328 

Republican party, 14, 30 f., 61 ff, 
105, 111, 139 f., 146 ff, 169, 
178, 200 f, 227, 335, 344 f., 350 f., 
409 ff, 492 f., 500 f., 541 ff., 552, 
555 ff, 568, 594 

Richardson, William A., 127 

Riis, Jacob, 140, 239, 269, 277 

Robinson, E. A., 497, 629 

Rockefeller, John D., 355, 482, 544 

Rondon, Colonel, 587 

Roosevelt, Alice, 185, 196, 237, 285, 
373, 437, 452, 460 f., 463, 560 

Roosevelt, Alice Lee: marriage to 
T.R., 153, 159 ff, 164, 181, 240; 
European trip, 181 f.; death, 185, 
196 f. 

Roosevelt, Anna (Cowles), 15, 155, 

Roosevelt, Archibald, 285, 459, 

Roosevelt, Corinne (Robinson), 28, 
259, 460 

Roosevelt, Cornelius Van Schaack, 

Roosevelt, Edith Kermit Carow, 
617, 621; Lincoln's funeral, 43; 
childhood friend of T.R., 80, 132, 
134; marriage to T.R., 235 ff., 
240, 459; visits Senate, 356, 357; 
as First Lady, 460; joins T.R. in 
Africa, 517; goes to South Amer- 
ica, 586 

Roosevelt, Elliott, 28, 43, 1 15, 163, 
196, 259 

Roosevelt, Ethel (Derby), 285, 517 

Roosevelt, Franklin Delano, 193, 
536 f., 586, 610 

Roosevelt, Kermit, 285, 411, 453, 
456, 459, 468, 485, 491, 625; in 
Africa, 516; in South America, 
586 f., 590 f.; in World War, 595 

Roosevelt, Margaret Barnhill, 26 

Roosevelt, Martha Bulloch, 14, 18, 
27, 185, 196 

Roosevelt, Quentin, 285, 459, 595, 
604, 613 f. 

Roosevelt, Theodore, biography: 

Childhood, 1858-70: ancestry, 14, 26; 
birth, 14, 19; in Civil War times, 
28 ff.; diaries, 78 f., 81 f.; Euro- 

pean trip, 77 f.; health in, 28, 47, 
49, 74; naturalist, 47, 49, 75, 79; 
reading, love of, 47, 78 

Adolescence, 1871-75: improving 
health in, 115 f., 120, 134; natu- 
ralist, 116, 118, 120, 123, 135; 
preparing for college, 127, 133, 
135 f.; trip to Europe and Near 
East, 105, 115 f.; social life, 134 

In Harvard, 1876-80: academic 
progress, 151, 158 f.; Alice Lee, 
153, 160 f.; begins writing career, 
152; clubs, 156 f.; moralist, 155; 
reading, 152; social life, 153, 159; 
sports, 152, 163 

Marriage to Alice Lee, 1880-84, 153, 
159 if., 164, 181, 185, 196; be- 
lated European honeymoon, 

181 f., 188 f.; Columbia Law 
School, 167, 186 f.; Twenty-6rst 
District Republican Club, 181; 
delegate to Republican Nomi- 
nating Convention (1884), 169, 
202; support of Blaine, 169, 201 f. 

Writing Career, 1881 -: The Naval War 
of 1812, 181, 194; Hunting Trips of 
a Ranchman, 204, 205, 218, 225, 
241; Ranch Life and the Hunting 
Trail, 206, 235, 241; Biography of 
Thomas Hart Benton, 235, 241; 
Biography ofGouvemeur Morris, 237, 
241 ; The Winning of the West, 237, 
241, 243 f, 257; City of New Tork, 
241, African Game Trails, 514, 519; 
An Autobiography, 585; The Outlook, 
493, 543, 558, 561 , 593, 598; Met- 
ropolitan Magazine, 593; Scribner's 
Magazine, 514,516,591 

Legislator at Albany, 1882-84, 169, 

182 f.; West brook investigation, 
182, 194; Aldcrmanic Bill, 183; 
bills supported, 185; election ex- 
penses (1882), 195; New York 
State Convention (1885), 205 

In the Bad Lands, 1883-87: hunting 
trips, 185, 203 f., 206, 208, 211, 
214, 217; ranchman, 203, 206 ff.; 
Maltese Cross ranch, 203, 212 f.; 
Elkhorn ranch, 203 f., 215, 218, 
220 f; captures boat thieves, 205, 
224; challenged to duel by De 
Mores, 203, 223; Medora, 203, 
206, 222; cowboys, 210, 213; 
liquidated ranch holdings (1887), 
204, 237 

Marriage to Edith Carow, 1886, 205, 
235 ff., 240, 459 

Family Life, 285, 356, 456 ff., 617; 
Sagamore Hill, 205, 237, 264, 
356, 456, 459 f, 543, 547, 616, 
621, 625; in Washington (1889- 
95), 243 f.; in the White House, 

Morality, 155, 458 f., 471, 496 f. 

Candidate for Mayor of New Tork, 
1886, 236, 238 f.; backs Harrison 
(1888), 237 

Civil Service Commissioner, 1889-95, 
242 ff., 248 ff., 257, 259; friend- 
ship with Kipling, 243, 245, 260; 
on Venezuelan boundary dispute, 

Police Commissioner, 1895-97, 268 ff., 
277 ff.; enforces saloon-closing 
law, 270 f., 277 ff. 

Assistant Secretary of Wavy, 1897-98, 
271, 281 ff., 300; letter to Capt. 
Mahan, 286 

Spanish-American War, 1898, 281 ff., 
288 ff., 290, 292 ff. 

Governor of New York, 1898-1900: 
candidate, 324, 327, 333 f., 336 f.; 
in Albany, 334 f.; relations with 
Platt, 334 f., 339 f.; Dewey cele- 
bration, 338; Lou Payn, 339; 
"Big stick" policy, 339, 396, 397 f. 

Vice Presidency, 1901: does not want, 
335, 341 f.; nominated for, 345; 
campaign, 205, 335, 346, 349, 
351 f.; election to, 353 f.; presides 
over Senate, 356, 358 f.; at Oyster 
Bay, 356; plans to resume law 
studies, 356; McKinley's assassi- 
nation, 356 f., 360 f. 

Presidency, 1901-8: predictions of, 
355; takes oath of office, 357, 364; 
upsets precedent, 369 f. ; Northern 
Securities suit, 370, 374, 412; 
coal strike (1902), 370 f., 375, 
383 f.; visit of German Prince, 
373; speaking tour ( 1902), 376 f; 
Pittsficld accident, 371, 380, 382; 
Venezuelan controversy, 397, 
400; help for Santo Domingo, 

398, 401 ; Alaskan boundary dis- 
pute, 394, 399; "Big stick" policy, 
396, 397 f.; Roosevelt Corollary, 

399, 401; opinion of Colombia, 
402; Panama Canal, 403 ff., 464 
ff.; imperialist beliefs, 408; cam- 
paign (1904), 409 ff.; Western 
speaking tour (1903), 414 ff.; 
tariffs, 409; veterans' pensions, 
409; Perdicaris kidnaping, 410; 
re-election, 411; inauguration 
(1905), 420 f.; peacemaker 
(1905); Russo-Japanese War, 
445 f., 451, 453 ff., Morocco, 445 
f., Nobel Peace Prize, 454; against 
predatory rich, 471 ff; Hepburn 
Bill, 472, 478 f.; Pure Food Bill, 
473; meat inspection, 473, 476; 
conservation, 473, 477; Panic of 
1907, 482; Tenn. Coal & Iron 
Co., 482; troubles with Japan 
(1905-7), 485 f.; San Francisco 
school exclusion, 485, 488; U.S. 
fleet on world cruise, 486 f., 490, 
506; troubles with Congress 
( 1 907), 491 ; progressive proposals 
(1907), 491; choosing Taft as 
successor, 493 f., 500 f.; attacks 
on Foraker, 493; plans African 
trip, 493; quarrels with Gen. 
Miles, 494; Maria Storer, 494; 
Foraker, 495; Harriman, 495, 
simplified spelling, 498; visits 
Lincoln's 100th anniversary, 505; 
Taft's inauguration, 507 

Trip to Africa and Europe, 1909-10, 
511 ff.; in Egypt, 511, 517, 519; 
in Europe, 511 f., 520 f.; Ro- 
manes lecture, 511 f., 532; at 
Sorbonne, 511; Guild Hall 
speech, 513, 531; at Cambridge, 
532 f.; in Norway, 511; in Ger- 
many, 525 f.; in France, 524; in 
Italy, 520 f.; in Rome, 512, 521; 
funeral of Edward VII, 528; 
opinions on European royalty, 

511, 513, 521, 528; homecoming, 
513, 534 f., 538 

Private Citizen, 1910-12: promises 
Taft to remain silent, 541, 547, 
549; Western speaking tour 
(1910), 542 f., 551 f.; New Na- 
tionalism, 542, 55 1 ; speculation 
on future, 543, 548; urged to be 
presidential candidate, 543; in- 
surgent Republicans, 545, 547 f., 
555; break with Taft, 523, 541 f., 

560 f.; direct primary fight, 549, 
557, 562, 565; midterm election 
(1910), 552 

Bull Moose candidate, 1912, 555 ff., 

561 f.; T.R. and Taft as oppo- 
nents, 556 f, 561 f., 564; Cre- 
dentials Committee, 557, 566; 
Armageddon speech, 557; U.S. 
Steel suit, 543, 561; T.R.'s sanity 
questioned, 556, 565; national 
conventions (1912), 568; shot at 
in Milwaukee, 572 f.; election 
defeat, 574 

Libel suits: against Newett (1913), 
585 f., 588 f.; Barnes against T.R. 
(1915), 600 f. 

Trip to South America, 1913-14, 586 f., 
590 ff. 

World War: first reactions to, 593, 
598 f.; preparedness speeches, 
595; hatred of Wilson, 575, 622, 
624; opinions in 1915, 594, 599, 
602; sinking of Lusitania, 603; 
"Plattsburg idea," 604; criticizes 
Wilson's stand, 593 f., 606 f.; asks 
to raise division, 595, 610; war 
speeches (1917), 612; sons with 
A.E.F., 595, 613; Qucntin killed, 
595, 614; opinion of Wilson's 
Fourteen Points, 619, 623; Armi- 
stice, 618 

1916-19: endorses Hughes (1916), 
594, 606; asked to run for N.Y. 
Governor, 620; midterm elections 
(1918), 620; opinion on Bolshev- 
ism, 620; death, 621, 624 ff. 

Roosevelt, Theodore, Jr., 237, 249, 
285, 595, 621 

Roosevelt, Theodore, Sr., 14, 18, 
27, 153, 158 

Root, Elihu, 357, 371, 373, 398 f., 
486, 492, 494, 498, 501, 541 f., 

Rosen, Baron Roman, 454 

Rough Riders. See Spanish-Ameri- 
can War 

Round Robin, 297, 320 f. 

Russell, Charles, 476 

Russia: war with Japan, 445 ff, 
453 ff; World War I, 597; T.R. 
on Communist revolution, 620 

Sagamore Hill, Oyster Bay, 205, 

237, 241, 264, 356, 456, 459 f., 

"Salary-Grab" Act, 127 
Saltonstall, Richard, 153, 156, 160 f. 
Sampson, Adm. T, 296, 307, 31 1 ff, 

San Francisco, excludes Japanese 

from schools (1906), 485 ff. 
Santiago, 306 f., 312 f., 319 
Santo Domingo, 401 
Sayre, Francis Bowes, 581 


Schley, Adm. Winfield S., 494 

Schurz, Carl, 176, 184, 202, 245, 

Scott, Gen. Winfield, 29, 34 

Sewall, Bill, 204, 220 , 224 

Seward, William H., 14, 30 

Shatter, Gen. William R., 297, 313, 
318, 320 

Sherman, Gen. William X, 29, 39 

Sherman Anti-Trust Act, 412, 472, 

Shonts, Theodore P., 466, 469 

Sinclair, Upton, 476 

Smoot, Reed, 544 

Soo Canal, 52 

Spanish- American War: in Cuba, 
281 ff., 288, 296 ff., 302, 306 f., 
312 ff., 318 f.; Rough Riders, 
295 ff., 304 f., 308 ff., 314 ff., 
326, 328; in the Philippines, 295, 
300 f., 323; in Puerto Rico, 322; 
Wake Island, 322; Hawaii, 331; 
treaty with Spain, 297, 332, 355 

S.P.C.A., 51 

S.P.C.C., 140 

Spelling, simplified, 498 

Spencer, cartoon, 589 

Spring-Rice, Cecil, 236, 243, 285, 

Standard Oil Co., 472, 479, 491, 

Stanton, Edwin, 64, 73 

Steel industry, 85, 92 

Steffens, Lincoln, 476 

Stephens, Uriah S., 126, 231 

Stevens, John F., 467 

Stevens, Thaddcus, 62 ff., 72 f. 

Stevenson, Adlai E., 225 

Stimson, Henry L., 549, 552 

Storer, Bellamy, 284, 494 

Storer, Maria Longworth, 281, 494 

Street, Julian, 457 

Stuart, Phil, 450 

Sullivan, Mark, 460 

Syracuse, N.Y., 601 

Taft, William Howard, 169, 243, 
412, 450, 514, 536, 620; predicts 
T.R.'s Presidency, 355; Gover- 
nor of Philippines, 388, 392; Sec- 
retary of War, 446, 452; selected as 
T.R.'s successor, 492 f, 500 ff.; 
elected President, 493, 503; in- 
auguration, 506 ff.; dismisses 
Pinchot, 523, 545; inept poli- 
tician, 541 f., 545 f.; and Payne- 
Aldrich bill, 542, 544; supports 
Cannon, 545; presidential candi- 
date (1912), 555 ff., 562 ff.; 
friendship with T.R. broken, 
556 f., 560 ff., 573; at Wilson 
inaugural, 582; at T.R.'s funeral, 

Takahira, Kogoro, 454 

Tammany Hall, 577 

Tarbell, Ida M., 476 

Telephone, 143, 173,429 

Tennessee Coal & Iron Co., 482 f., 
543, 561 

Tenure of Office Act, 64, 72 f, 

Theater: in 1850s, 17; Ford's The- 
ater, 42; in New York City after 
Civil War, 47, 50. Actors, singers, 

performers: Maude Adams, 424, 
434; George Arliss, 435; Ethel 
Barrymore, 424, 435; Sarah 
Bernhardt, 435; Enrico Caruso, 
424, 434; John Drew, 50, 424; 
Geraldine Farrar, 424; Minnie 
Fiske, 435; Floradora girls, 430, 
434; Forbes Robertson, 435; Wil- 
liam Gillette, 424; Richard 
Mansfield, 424; Julia Marlowe, 
424; Adah Isaacs Menken, 58; 
Ada Rehan, 50, 424; Lillian 
Russell, 435; E. H. Sot hern, 424; 
Lydia Thompson girls, 59; David 
Warfield, 435; Florenz Ziegfeld, 

Tilden, Samuel J., 139, 146 ff. 

Tillman, "Pitchfork Ben," 472 

Tolstoy, Leo, 496 

"Tranquillity," 134, 137, 181 

Transatlantic cable, 1 3 

Treaty of Paris (1898), 297, 332, 

Trcvelyan, George Otto, 396, 421, 

Truman, Harry S., 325 

Trusts: in 1904, 471; Northern 
Securities Co., 370, 374, 412; 
Standard Oil, 230; T.R. as 
"trustbuster," 377, 412, 471 f.; 
U.S. Steel, 355, 472 

Tumulty, Joseph P., 581, 622 

Twain, Mark, 87, 88, 387, 442 f., 

Tweed, William, and "Tweed Ring" 
in New York City, 104, 109 

Tyler, John, 409 

Union League Club, 27, 62, 64 
Union Pacific Railroad, 86, 91 
U.S. Steel Corp., 355, 472; and 

Tennessee Coal & Iron Co., 

482 f., 543, 561 

Vanderbilt, Alfred Gwynne, 436, 

Vanderbilt, Alva Smith (Mrs. Wm. 

K.), 174f. 

Vanderbilt, Cornelius, 14, 174 
Vanderbilt, William Henry, 174, 

272, 425, 544 
Vfmdcrbilt, William Kissam, 168, 

174 f. 

Van Wyck, Augustus, 334, 337 
Vatican, T.R.'s disagreement with, 

Venezuela: boundary dispute, 

266 f.; test of Monroe Doctrine 

(1901), 397,400 
Versailles treaty (1919), 621, 622, 


Victor Emmanuel III, 521 
Victoria, Queen, 13 
Von Bernstorff, Count, 608 
Von Slatin, Rudolf Carl, 517 f. 
Von Sternburg, Count Speck, 445 

Wake Island, 322 
Wallace, Henry, Sr., 560 
Wallace, John F., 468 
Wanamaker, John, 244, 251 
Washington, D.C.: Capitol (1861), 
32; Lincoln's second inaugural, 

41; patent office, 94; street scene 
(1889), 242; life in, in 1890s, 
244; Coxey's "Army" in, 262 f.; 
White House reception (1902), 
372; Smithsonian Institution, 

Washington, Booker T, 369, 372 
Webster, Harold T, his cartoons, 

564, 567 

Weitzel, Gen. Theodore, 42 
Wells, Fargo, 99 
Wesleyan University, 575, 580 
Westbrook, Theodore, 182, 194 
Wester-man, cartoon, 504 
Wheeler, Gen. Joseph, 308, 312 
White, Henry, 447, 560, 585 
White, William Allen, 473, 523, 


Whitman, Walt, 496 
Whittier, John Greenleaf, 497 
Wilcox, Ansley, 357, 364 
Wilder, Ralph, cartoon, 546 
Wilheim II, Emperor, 445, 447, 

450 f., 525 f. 

Williams, John Sharp, 593 
Wilson, Ellen Louise Axson, 579 ff. 
Wilson, James and Anne, 578 
Wilson, Joseph and "Jessie," 578 
Wilson, '(Thomas) Woodrow, 288, 
571, 573, 575; ancestry, 578; 
early life, 575, 578; at Princeton, 
579 f; as teacher, 575 f., 580; 
Governor of New Jersey, 575, 
581; accepts presidential nomi- 
nation, 570; as candidate (1912), 
568, 570, 576 f; elected Presi- 
dent, 557, 574; inaugural (1913), 
Women's suffrage, 14, 141, 424 
577, 582 ff.; "New Freedom" 
doctrine, 577, 584; writes Con- 
gressional Government, 579; sinking 
ofLusitama, 593, 602 f,; neutrality 
policy of, 593 f, 603; presiden- 
tial campaign (1916), 594, 606 f. ; 
declaration of war (1917), 594, 
608; T.R. asks to recruit a divi- 
sion, 595, 610; re-elected Presi- 
dent (1916), 594, 607; Fourteen 
Points, 615, 619, 621; goes to 
France (1918), 621 ff.; in Eng- 
land, 622 f.; and Versailles treaty, 

Wister, Owen, 457 
Witte, Count Serge, 454 
Woman's Medical College of Pa., 


Wood, Leonard: colonel in Span- 
ish-American War, 295, 304 f., 
308 f.; made a general, 315, 
320 f.; attacks yellow fever, 355; 
military commander of Cuba, 
388; Plattsburg idea, 604 
World War I, 593 ff., 597 ff., 602 ff. 
Wright brothers, 423, 431 

Young, Brigham, 87 

Zahn, Rev. John A., 586 
Ziegfeld, Florenz, 424 
Zimmerman, Eugene ("Zim"), car- 
toon, 474 
Zola, Emile, 496 


143 304